The Price of Victory
by artist369
Summary: (Dark Parallel 10th Doctor). When a young blond woman claims to be on a journey from parallel to parallel to stop an ominous threat, the villainous Time Lord Victorious is determined to break her spirit and crush her goals to escape, but he doesn't count on what happens next. (Canon friendly and professionally illustrated).
1. Chapter 1

**Special thanks to my beta reader, Bria! Just in case you are wondering, Starfall is in fact an established system in the whoniverse. It's from the DW book, The Resurrection Casket, as is the pulse and the Gerossic rift. Input fuels my output! Good, bad, and in between, I greatly appreciate your time to help me become a better writer. Do enjoy! To see the illustration, visit my profile page for the link (it's pretty awesome, just sayin').**

**The Price of Victory**

He stood at the pinnacle of his accomplishment, hands clasped behind his back, reveling in the devastation playing out before him. No one had bested him, no bastion of any of the mightiest civilizations or their arsenals of gruesome weapons. Not even Lord Rassilon and his sanctimonious Moment, nor his antithesis of existence that was the Final Sanction, the product of a senile and deranged mind. All fell to his glory. Even Gallifrey itself in the end. It'd cost him two regeneration cycles to do it- a small pittance. He had vanquished any _truly_ worthy adversary after that day. Now he was simply having fun.

A smirk curled at the edge of his thin lips, deepening on his newly regenerated face. The ghostly image of a young man in a black suit and burgundy scarf all but disappeared against the backdrop of the scene below, reflecting faintly through the glass as the world beneath him burned under the blackened sky. _Handsome devil_.

It was almost a challenge, bringing the planet of Starfall to its knees, what with their anti-technology pulse scrambling every and all bit of advanced machinery worth having within 100 parsecs. That's why he had chosen this place- he wanted to devise a way to annihilate the capitol without resorting to his floating fortress. He had to get perversely creative. And _oh_ he had.

And so it had fallen, Starfall. What a pleasantly fitting name. _Poetic_. Rarely did the civilizations he conquered hold up to their purported labels, what with the propensity of lesser beings to exaggerate and embellish. Perhaps it was a limitation of their minds, if not outright arrogance, the assumption that they had a right to claim excellence when they had such limited and transitory spheres of influence. Names, by definition, ought to indicate some form of veritable truth. And thus it was left to him as the universe's superlative evaluator to act as judge, jury, and executioner of those found lacking and to eulogize those found worthy. He was the ultimate connoisseur of culture, the ultimate judge of truth. The one who came down from the heavens to challenge any who dared claim to the brightest or the best or the most beautiful, like the pagan gods of justice woven throughout the mythologies of the cosmos. Surely _he_ was the subliminal precedent, lending credence to the legends.

And thus, while keeping the planet and its aforementioned title honest, he watched from his ivory tower, or rather, from the vestige of a long-forgotten senate hall carved painstakingly into the mountain side during a more civilized age. After the ZEG pulse had thrown the world both into literal and cultural darkness, its mountainous tunnels and secrets were left to crumble making it all but inaccessible, serving only to remind the survivors below of what once was and what would never be again. He'd never hurt such a relic to history, such beauty and accomplishment. He could not however, say the same of the stinking shanty that had sprung up in the valley beneath, the supposed 'capitol' of the world, a city now in ruins by his hand.

Pity there wasn't more to add to his estate, what with most of the peoples living so primitively, void of electricity and all its correlative advancements. The peculiar world had taken to steam power to get by. Steam power and cutthroat piracy- the latter being what enticed him: the promise of a thousand treasures. Who wouldn't be intrigued? But again he was disappointed. Granted, there were_ some_ treasures to be had, just not nearly as many as the stories promised. Or perhaps his standards were simply higher than the marauding ignoramuses that collected copies and genuine relics without distinction.

The soft sound of footfall interrupted his thoughts. "My Lord, we have reports that the planet is surrendering on all fronts. What shall I tell them?"

His steady gaze didn't deviate from the chaos below, watching the scene with rapt attention. "Tell them... Starfall has fallen. To the Victor, go the spoils." In his peripheral vision, his servant's form bowed before he once more faded from the lamplight, stepping into the shadows.

Ah, another delectable victory. And where would the winds of fate whisk him to next? What audacious planet begged for subjugation? He stroked the smooth line of his jaw in speculation. The Halls of Prosperity on Junnis-Clave perhaps? Or maybe the fields of endless erudition on Gnosis? He always did fancy a good sit-down with the celebrated philosophers of their 7th century.

A sudden clamorous crack and an explosion of blue light brazenly tore him from his plans, sending him reeling back in alarm, arms raised to protect his face. A figure stumbled into view, back to him, fighting to stay upright with splayed hands outstretched on either side to find equilibrium. It was a young female from what he could determine, humanoid, blond, fair-skinned, and at least _momentarily_ oblivious to his presence. He took advantage of this fact and snatched his laser screwdriver from his pocket, wielding it before him with one swift swoop of his arm, adrenaline surging through his body.

She shifted, taking in the dark sparse chamber, her eyes darting wildly about. Then her brown doe eyes locked onto his. With a look that could only be described as utter shock, her face drained of color as she stilled. Recognition perhaps?

Making use of her non-action, he took her in. Her features weren't altogether striking- face a tad too wide, jaw a bit prominent, full lips and straightened hair tucked behind one ear- though there was something slightly _alluring_ about her. He would have found her mildly attractive if he weren't utterly baffled by the impossibility of her very presence or currently busy trying to ascertain the level of threat she posed.

She made no move to run, smart on her part. Instead, her hands trembled as she looked down at some odd circular device. "This can't be right..." she muttered. "Which one are you?!" Her eyes looked over his form once more, and it was the subtle hint of hope he saw there that stayed his hand, prompting him to lower his weapon, albeit only slightly. "Control? Control? " she hollered into her hand-held communication device. She cursed. Reluctantly she returned her attention to him. "Have you got a name?" she asked, biting at the edge of her lip, her overly dark eyebrows furrowed in some inscrutable expression.

"Are you telling me you don't know who I am?" he snapped indignantly. Surely she had been sent to end him by some as yet unknown underground organization she referred to as 'control'. Hardly an intelligent assassin if she didn't even know her target. Either that or she was never meant to survive the encounter. She was expendable to whoever had sent her. He surveyed her body for any sign of a weapon bulging along the tight confines of the navy leather jacket or black slacks she wore, but saw none.

"Well, I can't really tell you that unless I know your name, now can I?" she countered plainly.

He bit back his surprise- whether at her outright brazenness or shock that she may insinuating that she _did_ in fact know him from somewhere, he couldn't be sure. "_What_?"

She looked down at her com unit, fiddling fruitlessly with settings, finally hitting the side of it angrily. "Blasted thing! God, why isn't it working?!"

"It's the ZEG," he stated flippantly. "It's a zone of electro-magnetic gravitation. Interferes with anything that has an electrical current." But of course, by all rights she should have known this already.

"Say what now?" She looked up warily, hand clutching at her forehead. "Oh, don't tell me I've landed in the outreaches of the Gerrosic Rift..."

"Yes, yes you have," he spat matter-of-factly as he raised his weapon. "So why don't you tell me how you were able to get past this world's natural defenses when the most infamous Time Lord in all of history had to resort to alternative methods?"

Her mouth dropped as she looked down upon the instrument in his hand with newfound respect. "I take it that's not a _sonic _screwdriver?"  
she asked hopefully.

His brows contorted in confusion as his arm lowered just a tad. "What? _No!_ Don't be absurd. It's laser powered." Sonic powered screwdriver? Who'd have such a thing? _Honestly..._

"_Right_," she breathed with a small nod of her head, eyes still trained on his extended arm. "Well," she exclaimed with renewed vigor and a startlingly bright smile, "I've got somewhere else to be, so if you could maybe give me a ride out of range of this little electro-magnetic pulse thingy, I'll just be on my way."

At this he laughed hollowly, training his weapon higher. "Oh, I don't think so, child. You've just gone and done something impossible- appearing out of thin air right in the middle of my strategic headquarters during the eve of my victory._ You_ aren't going anywhere."

"Oi! I'm not a child," she growled huffily.

Odd that words cut her when threat of death did not. "Who are you?!" he asked pointedly.

Once more, he's lost her attention to the gadget at her hip. "Doesn't matter," she brushed him off distractedly.

Oh _no! _He wouldn't have it! And for all he knew, that infernal contraption could be some sort of disguised weapon. With deadly accuracy, a red beam shot it from her hand, sending it hissing across the floor.

She glanced down at the smoking hull before returning his gaze. "Wow, good shot," she said with an approving nod and a bemused smile. "I'm impressed."

Somehow, this only made him angrier. "I don't have time for your stupid games, ape. _Speak your name!_"

To his surprise, she burst out laughing, doubling over in a fit of giggles. A moment later, she righted herself, rubbing at her tearing eyes. "Sorry, mate. I know you're trying to be all threatening." Exhaling, she took a moment to compose herself before clearing her throat. "Okay. Commence with the threatening." She blinked back another smile twitching at the edge of her full lips.

"Do you think this is funny? I'm _funny_ to you?" he hissed. "I could end you right now!" He found his feet moving as he closed in, lithely circling around his prey in a slow dance, wanting to make her cower, to wipe that look off her face.

"But you won't," she contended stubbornly, following his movements. "Because you like a mystery, don't you? I fascinate you. You don't understand how I got here, and that's why you're gonna keep me alive." Her mouth turned upwards, daring him to prove her wrong.

Oh, she was infuriating! "Easy enough to remedy. You won't talk? _Fine._" With a flick of his wrist, he scanned her, a red whirring light raking her body. "Human." _Pure _human. Now was _his_ turn to be impressed. "What are you doing way out here?" he wondered aloud as he squinted at the readout before glancing back up. "You're a long way from home. And out of your time, I might add."

Humans had long since adapted and had their genes scattered across the universe. There were none left, certainly not this far in the future. As a matter of fact, he had never seen this particular type of genetic signature before. She was rare... a relic from days long past. Primitive, granted, but valuable in her own right. Not that he'd let _her_ know that. And there was something about her. Something he couldn't quite place, gnawing on the outskirts of his consciousness. "Never quite liked humans, as a whole," he taunted to keep up his ruse, rocking on his heels. "Primitive beasts, the lot of them. Their ignorance only matched by their penchant for destruction. You are _nothing_."

Her eyes narrowed, and he wondered if she didn't see straight through him. "Is that so, _Time Lord_?" she asked huskily, the way in which she so knowingly emphasized the name of his species prickling his at senses with unease. "Well, go on then- see for yourself. Look into my mind," she dared. "Tell me what you see." She took a step forward and he instinctively took a mirrored step back, eying her scrupulously.

Was this some trick for her get close? How did she even know he was telepathic? He considered her carefully for a moment. She was only human, female even- the weaker gender of her species, _and _unarmed. And he had two highly trained guards just outside if she resorted to any type of physical altercation. Not that he doubted he could handle her himself. Granted, this new form was more slight than his others, but he had no doubt he could easily manage the likes of her with his agile and athletic build.

After a long moment of deliberation, he cautiously approached, raising his hands and nimbly pressing them to her warm temples. She didn't flinch. But a second was all he could endure. With a gasp, he withdrew his hands as surely as he had been scorched by the blinding golden light in her head, a mournful howling resonating deep within his psyche. An image was burned into his retinas: of a goddess bathed in golden vortex energy, suspended outside of time and space, a walking paradox. In fact, even now she was _bristling_ with time energy, sparks of converging and folding timelines swirling in her wake. "_Impossible_," he breathed, his mouth dropping.

"Not impossible," she replied smugly. "Just a bit unlikely."

Her words did nothing to satiate his sudden rabid thirst for answers. How did she survive absorbing the Time Vortex? How did she even gain access to it? Who allowed her to do so? _In time_, he told himself. For now, he'd start with the most basic of questions. "What do they call you, _human_?"

Her mouth broke into a cheeky grin as she preened. "Oh, lots of things. Plus One, Defender of the Earth, The Valiant Child, the Stuff of Legend," she boasted. Her smile soon dropped after noting his lack of amusement. "Oh, I'm being facetious, aren't I? Oh, alright then. Thing is, I can't say."

"Why not?" he asked while shooting her a sidelong glare, hand poised to grab his weapon at a moment's notice.

She shrugged. "Could cause a chain reaction in the causal nexus. And those are nasty to clean up. I should know."

It irked him to hear her talk of time as if she knew of its infinite intricacies, as if she could possibly comprehend its majesty. He saw her mind; she was not of higher intelligence no matter how _unlikely_ she was. Whatever past event had graced her, she was still only human at the present. Certainly no Time Lord. "Dropping a name is hardly going to alter the course of history here. I think you give yourself _far_ too much credit."

"We'll see," she muttered, rudely sidestepping him toward the glass. "What about you? Got a name?"

It was only his basal desire to make himself be known and feared by this creature that prompted him to answer. "_Victor._" He let the name roll off his tongue, emphasizing the sharp consonants, willing the word to bite her.

"Time Lord, you said? I knew a bloke once. Doctor, they called him. But he wasn't a doctor in the sense you would think. It was more of a title." She scanned the smoldering ruins below, her eyes showing just a tinge of sadness, but she hid it well. "Victor. Vickter, Weektorrrr..." she sounded aloud with a cruelly distracting chewing of her lip. "'S just a title innit? Not really your name." She turned from her pensiveness to look him dead on. "To the Victor go the spoils, am I right?"

"What are you?" he hissed dangerously, groping his laser before yanking it out of his silk-lined pocket. "An assassin?"

"_Pfft_. Don't be so daft! Why would I bother hopping in here unarmed to go against a Time Lord? You're what? Several centuries old? Still a few generations left I'd wager. I'd say the odds are in your favor, mate. Besides, you already saw into my mind. You know what I am. I'm no assassin."

Instantly, he was on the defensive, raising his laser once more. "How do you know so much about my species?" His people had been vanquished eons ago in linear time, though not long ago for him. No one this far in the future ought to know so much.

Then she smiled, a sickening sweet smile, sitting so odd upon her genuine face, as if she knew some great secret she wasn't sharing. "Are you afraid of the big bad wolf, Victor?"

Furious, another blast of light shot from his screwdriver. It sliced into the glass behind her, fracturing the pane which crackled ominously. "Pity, I missed," he lied, leaping forward. With one hand, he shoved her hard against the fragile glass, pinning her down. With the other he pressed his metal probe deep into the flesh of her throat. "Do you reckon I'll miss his time?" Face only inches from hers, his blackened eyes bore into her, sneering.

Again, she didn't flinch. "No, I reckon if you shoot you'll find your mark, but at the cost of your own life," she spoke sadly, pity of all things shining in her eyes.

He wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or confused. "You're not very imaginative, are you?" he snidely remarked, pressing the laser further into the soft tissue of her neck. "Like I haven't heard _that_ before." They were all the same, the veiled empty threats of dying men, the inevitable last breath begging for mercy in vain.

"Maybe, but it makes no difference what you've heard or haven't heard. You are in grave danger. We all are. And _that's_ why I'm here."

He saw the naked truth in her eyes, and he suddenly wondered if the woman was even capable of deceit. She was either incredibly fearless or an incredibly good actress. His grip relaxed as he squinted. "Explain."

"It's the darkness," she replied in a reverent hush. For the first time he saw just a hint of fear. "It's eating my current universe, and _every_ universe. The stars are going out, one by one."

"Preposterous," he scoffed, stepping back, lowering his arm. "That's impossible. I've seen no evidence of this."

The girl straightened herself up, tugging at the end of her jacket and smoothing her clothes. "That's because I skipped ahead to a universe further out. Last jump I almost dived straight into nothingness, missed it by mere minutes before it consumed the planet I landed on. I'm trying to stay ahead of it, trying to get back to my original universe. But make no mistake, it's coming and it _will_ be here soon."

"Travel between universes is-"

"_Impossible._ Yeah, I know," she said with a roll of her eyes. "If I had a shilling for every time I heard that one..."

"I think I'd know more about it than you," he snarled, leaning in.

"Yeah? Well here I am standing right in front of you, mate, and I came out of nowhere so I'd say that has to count for _something_."

_Touche. _Begrudgingly, he stood down, returning his weapon to the inside pocket of his velvet black jacket. He was both fascinated and irritated by this... unorthodox oddity. She was impudent and brash to a fault, sharp-tongued, and quick-witted, but a novelty in her own right. A mystery... a mystery that warranted solving.

Footsteps heralded the return of his servant, who approached with a low bow. "My Lord Victor, the steam vessel is ready for departure." The gray humanoid handed him what appeared to be a crude tablet of paper and a pen.

Ah, inventory. _God_ he hated these primitive confines which required him to resort to _paper_ of all things. Out came his glasses as he scanned the list in the faint light of a few scattered oil-lamps. "Just one correction, Sikah. I need you to add another entry." He leered up at the girl from over his dark rims as he lazily returned the inventory list. "One human female." To his delight, she shifted uncomfortably, the first _proper _reaction he had gotten out of her yet.

"Shall I call her indigenous?"

"_Heavens no_. No, she's not indigenous." He'd never bother with their riffraff. With a snap of his fingers, two guards barreled into the room. "Process her and load her up with the rest of the loot. And don't forget her effects." They grabbed her arms, roughly binding her before he stayed his hand prompting them to hold her still. Slowly, he walked forward to examine his prize.

"What shall I identify her by, my Lord?" the servant's voice sounded from over his shoulder.

He moved in as close as he dared, taking in every detail of her unnaturally stoic face as he reached out to stroke the side of her cheek. Her only response was an almost imperceptible narrowing of the eyes, but it thrilled him nonetheless. "Class one, exotic," he whispered in wonder. It would appear he had captured a goddess, the only of her kind. Quite an addition to his collection. Seemed fortune was smiling on him yet again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The journey back was tediously slow and not half treacherous. Steam-powered ships were about as archaic a method of space travel there was, overly crude and only marginally safe. But what was life without occasional risk? Winning by nature invariably necessitated some form of sacrifice, security often being the first casualty. He was no stranger to endangerment. In fact, he usually thrived on it- the more risk, the more reward. In this case however, he could summon no more than blasé disinterest as the quaint shuttle bumped and rattled ominously, hissing and spitting steam as it carried on for nearly an hour. He could only hope the goods weren't damaged in transit. He would hate for anything _regrettable_ to happen to the girl before he had his answers or fun.

At long last they approached his massive fortress, her many stone turrets and incomparable splendor refulgent even in the black of space. The pathetic steam spacecraft however, was barely up to the task of landing, slamming into the ground of the hangar before screeching to halt as they docked. He sprung down the ramp before the craft had even powered down, zipping past his entourage waiting to unload, eager to reach the console room.

Never did he linger after triumph, and he was nothing if not methodical. After all, it was to the credit of his established protocols that he was even still alive. One could not retaliate if one could not find one's enemy. Without fail, his first course of action after conquest was to transport his TARDIS to another time and another place- the more isolated and solitary the better.

With a few quick coordinates and a grand pull of a lever, he made short work of materializing in the upper atmosphere of the gaseous super planet Villasita 3- one of his favorite leisurely views with its seas of endless clouds stretching infinitely in every direction. A fitting place to introduce his magnificent ship to the new addition. It was time they became properly acquainted.

He found her standing idly in the cargo bay overlooking the vast view, the many white spires of his ship shining under the bright sun. In reverent silence, he stood beside her, arms clasped behind his back. "'Never doth one enjoy the world aright'," he quoted after a moment of quiet appreciation, "'Till the sea itself floweth in the veins, till one is clothed with the heavens and crowned with the stars: and perceive oneself to be the sole heir of the whole world'. Resplendent, don't you think?"

"Not bad," she spoke. As if to backtrack she added, "I mean, a bit too posh for my tastes, but..." She shrugged. "Great view."

Somewhat taken aback, he turned to examine the woman more closely. It wasn't so much that he was put out by the mere mild interest she displayed over the impossible flying palace he had brought her to, but rather that nothing, _nothing_ she did or said was expected. This irked him. Because for a man that relied on reading his enemies, she was proving to be rather hard to decipher.

"Would you like a tour?" he offered, catching her sideways glance.

"Sure," she replied with a flippant shrug. "I could do with a tour 'spose."

They walked side by side in mutual tolerance, his unvoiced threats cloaked by the visage of cordial politeness. He led her through many grand open courtyards and architectural structures, giving a detailed description of each period influence. He told her how the fortress itself was ever-changing, molded into being by his sentient ship, how she was a floating continent in miniature, forged of earth and stone and dimensionally transcendent, protected from the elements and enemy assault alike by an invisible energy field unmatched in all the universe. Again, nothing he said surprised the woman who seemed only mildly curious rather than impressed.

"I always did have a taste for the finer things," he explained airily as they meandered. "And so I collect them. Everything from the finest art, relics, and technologies, down to the people who create them. I take them out of time and they live here, to find their muse and work uninhibited. All my servants are hand-picked from the most notable people in history- artists, musicians, chefs. All at my beck and call."

She pressed her lips together as she looked on the passing figures with new consideration. "And they don't mind this, then?" she asked curtly.

Ah, disapproval. Enlightening. "Oh, some of them do, of course. But they accept their good fortune in the end. I offer them a life in paradise." Her expression was impassive as they entered one of his favorite areas of the ship: the interior sculpture garden. It was a vast long hall of columned grandeur, tall symmetrical windows on either side casting bright intermittent light against a multitude of motionless figures. "As you can see, I only have the best." He gestured toward a large marble statue to his left.

"Isn't that sculpture by what's his name? That Michelangelo bloke?" she questioned, running a hand down the cool marble.

"Quite right," he replied. "The Pietà, commissioned by Jean de Billheres in the 15th century of your world. He works in the south wing."

At this she laughed. "So much for all your human scorn. Thought you said you disliked our kind?"

"I said I dislike them as a whole," he said huffily shooting her a glare. "_Quite_ a distinction. I dislike _everything_ as a whole. I only take the best."

Her grin only widened. "Well in that case, I'm flattered, mate." She gave the next metal sculpture a tinny knock with her knuckles. "Blimey, you've got a bonafide museum in here." She threw him a smirk over her shoulder. "You otta charge. Make a fortune, you could. Put those superb tour skills to good use." Try as he may, he couldn't stop the edge of his mouth from turning up.

She walked with spring in her step, absent of dignity and fear alike yet abundant in confidence. Her joviality did not falter, quick to quip as ever as he introduced her to several passing servants.

"Here's one of my most celebrated warriors- the fearless Chula avenger Chan Coi 'Thet," he announced proudly, placing a hand on the shoulder of a bowing creature, all teeth and brown scales, adorned in his ceremonial armor. "Many battles have been won by his hand in my name. And many nights of entertainment has he provided in the Colosseum."

"Blimey, you ought to get that skin condition looked at," she said dryly with a wink, looking on the alien with an amused grin. The alien's pupils slitted, but he wisely made no move for retribution in the presence of his master.

"And here's another fine specimen," he said with a wry smile as his prized servant approached. "Let me introduce Princess Ayaliah of the eleventh moon of Sideus, ruler supreme of the Tallidian Systems. High priestess, musician, artist, and the inspiration for limitless legends and interpretations of the most beautiful creature in all the universe." At this, the willowy blue-skinned woman dipped lowly, her long silver hair nearly reaching the floor, her iridescent garments pooling at her feet. "The legends hardly do her justice."

"My Lord," the princess spoke graciously, eyes trained on the floor.

"Nice to meet ya, your majesty," the girl curtseyed with a nod, managing not to throw her a disparaging after-remark.

"Walk with us, fair one," he ordered to his servant who nodded gracefully.

They came to rest at the balcony just as the sun started to descend below the horizon, throwing splashes of color along the white marble like paint on canvas. Leaning against the railing, he turned to the peculiar girl. Time to take off his mask of civility. "You won't find guards on duty, nor shackles or bars, and yet not once has anyone escaped. Do you know why, human?"

"Hm," she vocalized, pressing her hand to her mouth in contemplation. "The great food? No, I know. It's the wi-fi, innit?" He smirked. Jokes couldn't protect her from one such as him. She would learn _that_ soon enough.

"Because of this." From his pocket he extricated an ornate silver-colored bracelet, tiny circular swirls intertwining in an inscription of High Gallifreyan along the perimeter. To the untrained eye, such a trinket could easily be mistaken for jewelry, but its true purpose was far more nefarious. "It's made of an impenetrable metal alloy of my own design. Go on," he gestured with a nod of his head, holding it out. "Put it on."

Her brows wrinkled in incredulity, staring at his gift as if it were the equivalent of Sontaran slime bait. "Um, you're_ mental_ if you think I'm going to put some strange device concocted by a mad Time Lord on my wrist."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Tell me, do you know why I'm the last of the Time Lords?"

"No idea," came the unconcerned smarmy reply.

He hopped to his feet and took a step closer. "Because I'm clever and cunning. I read people. I find their weaknesses and exploit them," he cautioned in a low voice. "And you, human girl, you wear a brave face and hide behind witticism and jest but your eyes betray your heart." His speculative gaze bore into hers, hunting for any sign of weakness in her unyielding expression. "You don't hesitate to risk your own life, but what happens if I threaten that of another?"

He broke the tense moment to call out to a passing humanoid servant boy, a slight little thing, all knobby knees and wild hair. "This is Rit'ajh," he exclaimed affectionately, his long fingers stroking the unruly mop on the trembling child's head. "The most celebrated voice in all of Shuriolyte culture. Only ten years old." To his satisfaction, the woman stiffened, her jaw twitching as her eyes narrowed. "Ayaliah, my sweet," he called out to his mistress waiting silently a few yards away. She walked forward and bowed deeply.

"Yes, my Lord?"

Eyes riveted to the blond woman's, he spoke, "Grab his neck." To his satisfaction, she did so without hesitation, a terrified whimper sounding from the boy below.

"_Stop it_," the blond woman snapped, taking a step forward, her face fierce. "Just hand the stupid thing over, alright? I'll wear your ruddy bracelet!" She plucked it from his grasp and snapped it on. A brief beep sounded, signaling its activation.

As he expected- her mercy was her undoing. He leaned nonchalantly against the glass once more, foot propped under him. It was a hollow victory; she hadn't even fought. And though he had easily manipulated her into bending to his will, she maintained all of her stalwart spirit._ That _he hadn't beaten and bested. Oh, but there were ways to accomplish that. _Sinful _ways.

"What's this stupid thing do anyway?"

Her voice tore him from his vile reverie as she fiddled and fidgeted with her new gloriously unassuming shackle. "Why it helps me keep track of my things, of course. Try to escape, and you get vaporized by ten million volts of unstable neutrino dark energy. Saves me the hassle and mess of dealing with you myself."

He kicked his foot under him, lifting himself off the glass and onto his feet. "This fortress is infinite. You can't escape it so do me a favor and _don't _bother trying," he drawled, stuffing his hands in his black pinstriped trousers. "It's tiring trying to fetch my servants from the bowls of my ship. And I've been known to lose one or two simply because I can't be bothered to rescue them."

He turned to address Ayaliah. "See to her needs. And... get rid of her garments. I'll not stand for the likes of that on the likes of her."

He glanced over to see his new acquisition shifting uncomfortably, obviously stung by his dislike of her garb. Such an odd little thing she was, to be so selectively offended. "Now you'll have to excuse me. I have inventory to finalize, but trust that I'll be back to inquire of you soon." With one last dark look to accompany his spoken and _unspoken _promise, he strode from the hall.

* * *

An hour later, he bent over the console of his ship sufficiently puzzled as he analyzed her gear. The mobile device itself was basic and uninteresting save for it's rather ingenious time hack. Seemed she had interplanetary long distance. Not bad work for a human, though he'd never admit as much. The circular round device however, was more disconcerting. It was crudely inelegant in it's design- nothing more than great big button soldered onto a chain. And despite the slight singe mark from his laser on the side of it's hull, it seemed his handiwork back on Starfall had not compromised it in any way. Pity, that.

Out came his laser screwdriver as he sliced it cleanly in half, pealing it apart to reveal the inner workings. Inside he found a substance he'd never before encountered- some sort of glowing yellow plasma in a shell, fully ionized thermal plasma he'd wager, likely used to fuel the recharging cycle. After a quick scan and a prod of the end of his screwdriver, the shell was punctured and the plasma cooled and evaporated in a feeble golden puff.

In-depth diagnostics by the TARDIS quickly concluded that gadget fed on disrupted time energy, which only served to make him more uncomfortable. This abomination, this _anathema _of all that he represented was ripping holes in time and space indiscriminately and devouring the left over debris. If she was telling the truth about this 'darkness_'_, it was likely that whatever had caused the other universes to disintegrate was sitting right in front of him. Also unsettling- everything appeared to be covered in void particles. Seemed her story, at least to some extent, checked out. But his questions merely multiplied. Time to confront his catch of the day.

He was just about to send for her when the doors to the console chamber were thrown open, and she came bumbling in unannounced. He would have scolded her impudence if not for his sudden preoccupation with her appearance. Consequently he froze, glasses perched halfway down his nose.

It was an astonishing transformation. Enough of a contrast to leave even _him _momentarily speechless. She wore a long sleeveless gown of lavender silk, draping lazily along her front and sweeping up to clasp behind her neck. Her hair had been delicately pulled back and left to curl in silk tendrils tickling her shoulders. Her skin was flawless and radiant, eyes bright and... _annoyed_?

Though looking every bit the part of a budding debutante, she strode forward with all the grace of a stumbling uncultured simpleton. "Are you serious with the dress?" she barked, pinching the hem of her skirt as if she were trying to hold it as far from her as possible. "I feel like a walking curtain rod. And these blasted shoes are _not_ meant to be walked in."

His compliments died on his tongue. Shaking off his fixation, he put on his best scowl. "Lack of manners notwithstanding, your timing is impeccable." He ushered her forward with a commanding wave of his hand. "Now it's time you talked. Care to tell me what you were doing with this infernal mockery of all that is sane?" he demanded, holding up a remnant of her device.

True to character, her face suddenly went livid in yet another unanticipated response. "What have you done?!" she shouted, rushing forward in a trail of billowing fabric. She snatched the hull from his hand. "Put it back!" she ordered, shoving it under his nose, in the first true display of anger from her he had yet witnessed.

"Don't test me, you insolent girl," he snapped, wrenching it roughly from her hand. "You've gone and messed with technology_ far_ beyond you, punching holes in the fabric of time and space at your leisure. You think just because you miraculously managed to survive absorbing the time vortex you can do whatever you please without repercussions?"

"You don't understand..."

"You have no idea the damage you could have done! Did it never occur to you that this device could be causing the very peril you were describing?"

But her eyes were no longer trained on him, instead she reached down to the dash and cradled the other half of the device, her face deathly pale as she beheld the empty chamber where the yellow plasma had been. "You've severed the power cells. _My god_..." With her free hand, she raked a hand through her hair, absently mussing it as her breathing quickly intensified. She twirled in a swish of silk, whipping right back around to face him. "Tell me you've got more Trinnium!"

"What? You mean the plasma I found lurking inside?"

"No, I mean the rare ore that's required to _make_ the plasma," she clarified in a rush. "Took me ages to find enough of a suitable mineral for sublimation to create the needed dielectric gas. Without that exact type of plasma, successful dimensional stabilization and cyclic recharging are impossible! I've only found trace amounts on HD 106906 b, a planet in the parallel universe I was stranded in. It's extremely rare, and you've gone and destroyed it with your ruddy testing," she cried, shaking the the device for effect as the chain rattled mockingly in his face. "_Tell me_ you have more!"

"Planet _what_?" he balked, blinking. A more appropriate response would have been to demand her silence, and he suddenly wondered why he was letting this creature speak to him so. But there was no denying it; she was more intelligent than he'd original presumed. Dare he admit it? He was even slightly _impressed_? Impressed that a mere human had created a device which not only traveled across time and space but sideways through parallels, stark-raving mad though it was.

"It's a planet in the Crux constellation of the Scorpius-Centarus Association," she continued anxiously. "Coordinates twelve-zero-four-one-seven by zero-two from galactic zero center."

He shot her a harsh reluctant glare, biting back his retort before moving to the other side of the console and inputting the coordinates. No harm in looking, he supposed. But it was of no use. "Empty space," he muttered blankly at the monitor before looking back up. Must some sort of parallel variation; the planet existed in her universe but not his. "Doesn't matter anyway. What were you-"

"Can you replicate it? Synthesize more?!" she insisted, stepping inordinately close to him in a manner most obtrusive.

"What? _No!_" he snapped, taking a step back, flustered. She was in no position to ask favors of _him_. And why would he _ever_ let her resume her recklessness? "And anyway that would take molecular replication on a subatomic level," he said throwing his hands in the air to prove his point. "Based on the scan I took, to synthesize that particular gas would require several complex processes. It'd take _months _to process enough for use."

She stilled. "_Months_?" she breathed. "Like as in _two _or are we talking like a dozen?"

Again he inexplicably found himself answering the girl, despite her uncouth out-of-line effrontery. "At least six."

"Six? Six months?!" She twirled again, pacing back and forth as a string of scurrilous curse words sounded in the air. "God, we might not have that kind of time," she breathed. "We'd be cutting it close. _Extremely_ close. I've never been on a jump that long before. The darkness spreads faster than the speed of light. It's been consuming entire universes in under three months. We're not that far ahead of it, and depending on what side of the universe we're on, we may only have so long."

"Assuming _any_ of what you say is true," he cut darkly.

"Of course it's true! You think I'm just out risking my life every day traveling between realities for kicks and giggles? I've _got_ to get back straight away!"

"Well forget it! I'm _not _giving the likes of you the technology to go gallivanting off from universe to universe! It's tantamount to letting a child play with a particle gun. And this," he said derisively, holding up his half of the device, "This is a shameful hack to get you between realities. You can't just go ripping holes! You need finesse. You need to delicately protect the web of time. Puncture the holistic structure, and the consequences would be catastrophic!"

"Then help me do it the right way, _your lordship_," she demanded, folding her arms expectantly.

His mouth dropped. "I- it's... I mean-," he stuttered, flushed. Must he admit that he couldn't? That he had burned his world and their means of parallel travel with them? "No," he finally replied, pocketing his glasses. "_I'm_ the last Time Lord standing and that makes me the authority on the matter. And _you_ aren't going anywhere," he spoke with a point. "You, mademoiselle, are a permanent addition to my fortress."

It was she who now bore the face of indignant anger, her brows drawn down, mouth open in shock. "What?!" she scoffed. "I'm not a _thing_ to be collected!"

"_Nonsense_. Of course you are," he dismissed with a wave as he sauntered toward the door, fast tiring of her grating drivel. "Why else do you think I left you alive?"

"But _I'm_ not a historical figure," she argued, hot on his tail. "You've got no reason to keep me!"

"I told you," he called out. "I gather the most exotic art, technology, and people. You are an anomaly. Not even from this universe. No one else in all of history has ever been a goddess before. But you-" He whirled to face her. "...you burn like the sun."

Caught off guard, she stood transfixed, warm brown eyes wide with alarm at his sudden proximity. He reached out to stroke her golden hair, smooth and pleasant beneath his fingertips. Then slowly, he ran his thumb over her bottom lip, a small shaky breath escaping her parted mouth. "The most rare of all humans," he whispered aloud, his curiosity and captivation drawing him even closer. Did he honestly find her but mildly attractive before? That certainly wasn't the case now. Question was, was it her power or beauty that had him properly spellbound?_ Did it matter? _Perhaps therein lie the secret to her unquantifiable charm- to him power and beauty were one in the same.

It only took a moment before she gathered her wits and brushed his hand away. "Whoa there, romeo! I'm not on the market. And if you think you're gonna use me like some petty servant you got another thing coming! I don't care _what_ you're the last of!"

"You'd do well to rethink that, madam," he warned, ghosting along her perimeter before leaning in to speak lowly in her ear, his breath rusting her hair. "If you refuse to serve in _any_ capacity that I request of you, you are of no value to me. And _I don't keep worthless things on my ship_."

With that, he left her slack-jawed and satisfyingly silent for once.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer- This story is rated T. I do hope you like the progression so far. Please do leave me a note if you feel so inclined. I'm still relatively new to writing and I greatly appreciate all feedback. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 3  
**

He had left her undisturbed for a few days, absorbing himself in other endeavors. There were the usual routine duties to be attended to- strict regular maintenance of his elite Type 101 Mark 10 TARDIS, the production of more time torpedoes to boost his recently depleted stock, taking another crack at the Skasis Paradigm, and of course, the daily humdrum of interaction with the staff to ensure nothing was amiss. He'd also taken to regular scanning for that elusive darkness she referred to, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. And he'd even started doing preliminary research for synthesizing the mythological magic ore she went on about- not that he planned on making any. Though he must admit, the thought of conquering an entirely new universe was an incredibly enticing temptation darkness or no, and part of him wanted to throw caution to the wind and go with it despite his well-founded inhibitions.

As for the girl, it was an outright shame that his most rare trophy had such an impertinent temperament. That was likely to make subordinating her a challenge, a chore that could be pleasantly gratifying in its own right. Unlike the others, this one didn't respond to fear. To her, his threats might as well be idle save perhaps one: the way in which she reacted when he touched her was the only time he'd seen her susceptible, if only for a moment. And it wasn't without a slight bit of satisfaction that she eyed him warily when he saw her in passing the night before. It was likely the change could be attributed to the result of her consulting with his servants in his absence. They weren't without their frivolous gossip, after all, freely regaling many a tale of horror he had committed, precious few of them exaggerated.

_Excellent. _Then she knew what was coming.

He always let new arrivals acclimatize before serving in their respective trades, to give them a taste of paradise, to experience how wonderful life could be if obedient and accommodating. But in her case, it was also to seed the anticipation, the dread of knowing that he would send for her, of making good on his unspoken promise. For him, that first encounter was always the sweetest. He afforded only the most rare and beautiful the privilege.

It was the fourth night when he finally came for her. He found her in the most opulent of accommodations where she had taken up residence, which unbeknownst to her, was in fact his private bedchamber. She stood silhouetted against the starlight, looking out at the new world he had specifically chosen for the occasion, a world frozen in time, lit only by the stunning starlight of two slowly colliding galaxies, bright and dominating in the sky. The crystallized waves of an ocean glittered below in silence, but _she _had his eye, looking every bit the part she was to play.

"No one knows how it happened," he announced as he casually strolled forward, hands in the pockets of his black pinstriped trousers. "... How the world lost its sun and was left to drift in space. Legend says that the world was in love with the sun- who gave it warmth and life. And when it disappeared, it was so despaired it cried out ranting and raging with its tumultuous seas in a storm unmatched in all the universe. But the tears of the earth were frozen in place and the world was left without an anchor, drifting endlessly, never to love again."

"_The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars _

_Did wander darkling in the eternal space, _

_Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth _

_Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air; _

_And nothing stirr'd within his silent depths; _

_The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave, _

_The sun, his mistress, had expir'd before; _

_She was his Universe."_

"Life of the party, you are," she muttered under her breath, watching the view with trepidation.

With a quiet chortle, he swiveled slightly to face her, pressing his shoulder against the glass. "Makes for a great view though, don't you think? Without the sun in the way, one can see the majesty that was hiding underneath." He tilted his head. "Tell me, my unexpected girl, do you recognize those stars on the left?"

Brow furrowed in concentration, she considered in silence. "No," she finally breathed, blinking sadly. "I'm a long way from home."

"Perhaps not so as far you think. In my tongue, that galaxy is known as Galaxia Kyklos or Mutter's Spiral. It's nearly unrecognizable now that it's in the third stage of collision, but your people called it the Milky Way." At this her eyes lit up in recognition, just a hint of wonder reflecting in them. "And that there," he said with a nod of his head to the galaxy spiraling around it, "that's the Andromeda galaxy it's colliding with, over five billion years after your time. Those are your stars, dancing a slow mesmerizing waltz as gravity rips and pulls at them both, neither able to escape the other, until they become one- suspended in the universe forever."

"Now, that's about a cheesy of a pick up line as they come," she spoke hollowly, her usual lighthearted laughter stripped from her voice. "Is that supposed to be the Time Lord equivalent of foreplay?"

He shifted, resting his back fully against the glass, arms folded as he responded. "Then you know why I've come?"

At this, she grew unnaturally still, her skyward eyes falling ever so slightly. "I can gather, yeah."

In an instant his feet were moving, his body thrilling as he braced for the fight he knew was coming. He came up behind her, gently brushing her curls from her shoulder as his breath gazed along her neck, causing her frame to shudder.

"Ayaliah told me all about you," she whispered solemnly, eyes seeing afar. "What you've done. What you'd do to innocent people if I said no. What _happened_ to you?" she asked with a small shake of her head. "How did you come to be this?"

He didn't bother with her prattle. Instead, his arms found her waist as he inhaled the enticing aroma of her hair. He couldn't quite place the fragrance, but whatever it was, it was worthy of the highest praise. He breathed it in like a drug, heart-rate quickening and blood surging. Ever so lightly, he placed an agonizingly slow first kiss along her neck as her eyes fluttered closed. Her body was tense and lean as his hands graced the contours of her silk-clad figure. She didn't fight him, surprisingly, and he wasn't sure whether to be more aroused or slightly put out.

"The last..." she mused aloud to herself. "Not just the last... the last one standing. What hell you must have endured along the way."

He wanted to know her fully, as he did them all, take her essence unto himself. Deceptively gentle, he pressed his fingers to her temples and she gasped under his mental assault as he stole the first memory: Rose, her name was Rose. He saw her childhood- such humble beginnings. So unassuming for a goddess such as her. He nuzzled at the flesh of her neck with soft ministrations of his tongue.

"So alone," she whispered, but it wasn't her words that had his attention now. Greedily, he ripped another memory from her mind as he inhaled it sharply. Again she bucked, sucking in a breath that only incited him further, hastening his movements, his hot kisses pressing along her shoulder and back up her neck. Teenage years... an idiot boyfriend named Stone, then another named Smith.

"My god. Nothing, _nothing _you have ever known has been kind. It's no wonder..." Her chest was hammering now; he could feel her fast pulse in the heat rising off her skin, smell the chemicals and pheromones altering involuntarily. Ah, she was attracted to his new young form. _All the better._

With purposeful movements, he guided her to face him, reaching in her mind to pilfer yet another memory as his lips came crashing down on hers, eager to unfold her mysteries, mind, body and soul. A man- big ears, darkly clad, didn't catch his face. A Time Lord. They held hands. _Love._ He could feel it resonating in her mind at the sight of it as his lips found her jaw.

"I'm sorry," she uttered softly, her eyes moist.

For the first time he registered her words and he halted, her head cradled in his hands. "_What_?"

"You've never known love. I... I can't imagine."

Having long ago given up trying to understand her reasoning, he advanced once more, eyes blazing. "_Enough_. I'm not here for your words."

The air was palpable and tense, hinging on her next move as she considered him. Then something in her sad eyes shifted as her breath hitched. She pulled him down to her unexpectedly, kissing him deeply and earnestly. It caught him entirely off guard, and he stumbled back just a tad before righting himself.

Suddenly _she_ was initiating and holding him so very close, her fingers writhing through his hair in the most tantalizing massage... He let out a guttural groan of pleasure and backed her hard into a column. Against his feral movements, her kisses were tender, and he could sense her overwhelming emotions firing off with each brush of his hand against her face. There was a telepathic current humming between them both, and it was only then that he realized she had seen into his mind too. From that tangible electric spark, he could feel the emotion guiding her every action- gentle, yet purposeful and deliberate and so very different, as if she cherished him above all else in the universe.

He found his own hold softening, his kisses becoming less brazen and more tender as the two-way connection between them strengthened. Love. She loved... him? _No_. She was thinking of another. Running his fingers through her hair on the sides of her head, he lifted another memory: _his_ face- a parallel counterpart, the one she sought, a love so monumental that he wondered if anybody had ever loved anyone as much as she loved this Time Lord.

And now he was on the receiving end of her affections, and it made his hearts pound in an entirely new way, with wonder and utter fascination as she deftly pulled him toward his royally accommodating bed. She fell upon it, and he was quick to pounce, reveling in her soft kisses, contrasting wildly with the raw power he felt emanating deep within her mind, the goddess locked inside. He trembled under her touch, curious at how such a creature could affect him so. And having long forgotten for which purpose he'd instigated the encounter, he lost himself in the warmth of her embrace.

An hour later they laid quietly under the starlight, satin sheets drawn up over them both, two lovers spent and serene. She was sprawled across his chest, having drifted off, and he found himself idly twisting a lock of her hair in his fingers. _Exquisite. _He couldn't seem to wake her, entranced by the feel of her weight against him, and the way her dark lashes contrasted against her yellow hair. It was only then that he came to a startling revelation- in all his 900 years he had never made love, not until now. His past conquests couldn't put a candle to the experience. And by all rights, this was hardly a conquest. It was a two-way endeavor in every sense. She intrigued him, like no other mystery he'd ever come across, a literal and figurative walking paradox. Nothing she did or said was expected. Certainly not this.

And just how did she gain access to his mind? _That_, he had ruminated on for nearly half an hour. He could only theorize that it had to do with the connection she had fostered with the other him, somehow enabling her to breech his mental barriers. It certainly wasn't intended, but in the throes of passion he found that they had soldered a neural loop which folded back in itself, the feedback between their two minds increasing the sensations between them exponentially. Never would he have ever trusted anyone to forge a connection like that, thus, he had no idea what he had been missing for the better part of a millennium. It was unequivocally the best moment of his entire existence.

His mind thought of a million very compelling reasons why he should brush her off, tend to business... certainly not let his eyes droop. He never slept in the presence of his consorts, never let himself be vulnerable. And Time Lords notoriously needed very little sleep for survival. But the steady beating of her heart drummed incessantly against his own, lulling him with it's soft rhythm. Even in her blissful slumber, he was permeated by her essence, so warm and trusting that he soon fell asleep with her in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**How do you like the story so far? If you feel so inclined to leave me some feedback, I'd greatly appreciate it! I take input from my readers into consideration while writing the storyline. Thanks for reading!**

**Chapter 4  
**

It'd been over an hour since he had finally woken and stolen from the bed. During that time, he'd been hunched over the TARDIS console _attempting_ to calculate the precise number of compounds and processes he'd need to replicate that dielectric gas. But it was nothing but melting molar/empirical formulas and running ratios swirling incoherently in what _ought _to have been an elementary assignment.

_Why_ was he even doing this again?

With a low groan, he grabbed at his dark hair in frustration, running his thin hand across the length of his scalp. Inevitably, his mind flew to the memory of _her_ hands twisting and writhing in his hair not long before. _Ruddy hell!_ In a swell of anger, he slammed his glasses on the dash.

He was utterly bewildered. She certainly wasn't the most attractive female he'd ever seen. Pretty yes, _beautiful _even, but she was no Ayaliah. So what had him so... what was an adequate term? Perhaps there wasn't one. He'd had many women in his day, in all incarnations. He didn't think there was anything he hadn't sampled before. Until _her _that is_. _

It was the ultimate impediment of his species that despite their victory over the natural order of mortality, Time Lords were still beholden to the confines of blood and sinew, of chemical processes and firing synapses. And it was those constrictions which now both blessed and cursed his being in one breath. Was he not elevated above man and their primitive lifestyles and primitive physiology? And yet like the stinking beasts of their world, he was bound by that age-old desire- that depraved compulsion for release which elevated men and gods alike to sing the praises of their infatuates.

For him, basal indulgence had been but another spoil of war- the fruit to which his labors entitled him, but it was more than just that. He'd wielded his body like any weapon, as a means for domination and subjugation upon those whom he saw fit. But like all of the rest of his threats aimed toward this unexpected girl, he'd yet to find his mark. Instead it was _she _that had effortlessly hooked herself into _him_, snagging him with the cruel scent of her hair, with her implacable presence surging through his mind crowding out all rational thought, with the entirely unfair and utterly irresistible tantalization of touching time itself. She was the embodiment of the universe, and like the universe, she laughed at his feeble attempts for domination, for who could conquer one such as she? Instead she had turned his weapon in on himself, and it was _he_ who had fallen to his knees.

But were not _all _victims of circumstance? Surely the euphoric experience was but an emanation of the moment. She was new. She was different. And in the end she was just human. There was no more to add to the equation, as far as he was concerned. Therefore, it stood to reason that his current diminished mental faculties were nothing but the result of annoyingly elevated levels of oxytocin, vasopressin and endorphins- levels which should shortly fall within range.

A monitor swiveled into place, long fingers clamoring against keys in a bout of inspiration. Another time and place could be just the remedy. Somewhere new perhaps. Somewhere warm and interesting. With a tug of the lever, he settled on a little out-of-the-way place in galaxy 7, a primitive planet which legend said to be teeming with the most extraordinary flora and fauna. With a spirited slam of a button, the outside view was projected along the smooth white dome of the console room. To his delight, he stood gaping up at the images of various luminescent jelly-like life forms floating along in a mesmerizing show of choreography. Seemed the heavier-than-air gasses which made up the green hazy atmosphere of the planet allowed for their gravity-defying display. _Brilliant!_ He doubted even _she_ could pretend to be uninterested in this...

Ah, there he went again.

With a resigned sigh, he collapsed into the captain's chair. It was simply no use. Drawing his hand lazily up to the console, he jabbed at a button to pull up a video feed of his chamber, then promptly broke into a wide grin. Somehow she'd manage to thoroughly twist and tangle herself in the sheets in his absence, her body contorted in the most peculiar position, face hidden under a mane of wild blond curls. It wasn't the most flattering view perhaps, but he found it rather endearing. Or at least, he _would_ have if he weren't above such sentiments.

Suddenly she stirred, torso rising stiffly from the bed like the dead rising from the grave, tufts of hair whisping about, eyes unfocused and lifeless. Then with an arms extending high into the air, she arched her back in a long stretch, letting out a long breathy yawn. She blinked at the change of scenery, and it wasn't without a bit of satisfaction on his part that he spotted a momentary look of fascination spreading along her face. A sudden knock at the door sent her scrambling to grab her lilac silk gown from the floor, throwing it over the top of her and hopping to her feet just as a figure in blue entered.

"Good morning, my mistress," Ayaliah greeted softly, a tray in hand.

"Where is he, then?" Rose asked pointedly, taking in the empty room before yawning again. "Tall bloke, dark hair, ego the size of a sun?"

At this, he blurted out laughing. She was sort of funny, he decided- whether intentional or not. And anyway his ego was _hardly_ misplaced if her reaction the previous night were any indication. _Therein lies the humor_, he supposed. She was indirectly scolding him, telling him not to let it go to his head. This only widened his smile and he secretly wondered if she knew he was listening.

"Lord Victor?" Ayaliah asked gently as she set down the tray of a steaming beverage on the bedside table.

"Yep, him."

"He's indisposed, but he welcomes you to dress and freshen up. Nourishment will be served in one hour. Will you require aid?"

"Um, thanks but no thanks. I can take care of myself."

"But of course, my lady," she bowed respectfully.

"Why do you serve him Ayaliah," Rose spouted unexpectedly, her face somber. "What made you do that to the boy in the hallway?" At this, his ears pricked up.

"I serve him for the safety of my world. In exchange for my service he offers leniency to my people, sparing trillions of lives on the planets under my care. One life for trillions- I must commit the lesser of two evils."

At her reply, she pressed her lips together in a frown, arms hugging tightly around herself. "That must be hard. 'M sorry."

"You have no need to apologize, mistress, as I believe you and I are on equal footing."

The blond woman leaned slightly to grab a chalice from the tray, blowing at the steam billowing from the top. "Oh, don't be daft. I'm no princess."

"No, but you must be of great importance to be chosen as his new consort."

Rose choked on the beverage, hot liquid spewing from her mouth. "I'm _w-what_?!" He chuckled. Honestly, she was surprised? How many times did he have to spell it out for her? But if she needed more reminders, he was only too willing to accommodate her...

"Why his consort, of course," Ayaliah replied. "Has he given you another task?"

For a moment, she stood blinking. Then her mouth pursed in anger. "Why that pompous twat! I'm _not_ his smuddy consort. And I can do plenty, thank you very much! Maybe it's high-time I proved it." With that she slammed her cup down, the contents sloshing over the top, and stomped from the room.

Wouldn't take her long to find him then. _Good._ He still had plenty of questions. He picked up the glasses from the dash and returned them to his face. Laser in hand, he cheerfully prodded the dimension hopper, sending currents through the inner surface to test its maximum capacity. He could easily improve the design to allow for a charging cycle that took less than half the time- if he were so inclined that is. He counted the seconds, waiting for her loud arrival as he worked. _Forty-four... Forty Five..._

As expected, his fiery concubine stormed in with a grand push of the doors, nose in the air. Less expected- she took one look at his laser pressed to the device, and then _launched_ herself at him. "What on earth are you doing, you mad Time Lord?!" she bellowed, swatting his hands away. "Do that and you could exceed the thermal limit! Do you know what happens when you overload a dimensional stabilizer covered in void stuff? _It's not pretty!_"

Had her sudden closeness and the subsequent heady scent of their recent escapades not rendered him temporarily immobile, he would have responded with a proper scolding. Instead, his heart-rate quickened, his tongue seized, and his hands were pushed away without a fight. Such a troubling reaction... Once again finding his senses, he cleared his throat and did his best to sound imposing. "You know, I've killed people for far less insolence, marching in my lab unannounced!"

"Yeah? Well suck it up," she grumbled with a dismissive flick of her hand. "I'm _not_ letting you jeopardize the universe for the sake of your ego." Tongue pushed to the side in concentration, she gingerly lifted up the smoking hull in the palm of her hand to inspect it, prodding the hot inner shell with the tip of a fingernail.

"Stop it," he growled, snatching it back. "Why must you be _so_ insufferable?! You're downright fortunate I haven't ended you..." He pressed the tip of the laser back against the innards of the contraption, resuming his task. But she was already on him again, surprisingly strong hands fighting against his own.

"Stop it _you __b__army, psychotic-_"

"How dare you! _You out of control, uncouth_-"

Just then, his hand slipped and a red laser shot straight into the heart of the components, directly into the tiny converter of the dimensional stabilizer. They stilled, staring wide-eyed at one another in sudden mutual realization before an unsettling sound grew, rising in pitch, drawing both of their gazes simultaneously to the glowing hull which began to quake unstably in his hand. A loud warning sounded from the TARDIS console, demanding his attention as the white room took on an ominous flashing red glow. Instinctively, he dropped the sliced dimension hopper onto her hand and she yelped in pain. "Warning, critical energy buildup detected," he read from the monitor in a stunned voice. "Catastrophic implosion imminent. _But that's_..._" _He stood mouth agape, staring disbelievingly at the words.

It was Rose's angry voice which brought him back to the moment as she struggled to hold the heating mass in her tender hands. "Oh, now you've gone and done it!" she whined as the noise reached a fever-pitch. "You and your blasted laser-powered screw-it-up-royally toy! I _swear_! What on earth makes you want to slice through the components that inhibit overheating and then heat the darn thing up as high as you can?! How is that in any realm a _sane_ thing to do?! And now you've gone and shot it again, damaging the reality field converter. If we don't do something soon there's going to be a black hole in your precious pristine posh white _throne_ room you're so fond of!"

But he was far too occupied to be concerned about her disrespectful tongue sounding in the background. Instead, his mind was whizzing with a million ideas, adrenaline kicking into full gear. "We've got to isolate the implosion!" he yelled, spinning around the console in a rush, hands grabbing, pulling, and whirring. "I could … create a time lock or chrono loop! Freeze the implosion until I can figure out how to cancel out the effects of the void particles interfering with the reality converter."

"No time! Anyway, I've got a better idea." In an instant she sprang into action, tossing the glowing half of the dimension cannon hopper upon the floor with a clatter as it started to spin and wobble. How on Gallifrey _that_ helped the situation was beyond him, but just then she tore around to the opposite edge of the console, hunting for something under the dash with urgent fervency.

She must have found what she was looking for because just then, she grabbed at something hidden just out of his view, spinning around in a blur of pale purple. A large cloud of vapor then filled the chamber accompanied by a loud whooshing. He choked on the sickly smell of concentrated carbon dioxide, wafting it from his face as the noises died down and the control room once again took on its natural coloring. A fire-extinguisher. How... _unimaginative_. And rather anti-climatic.

From across the cloudy room, she threw him a weary sidelong glare, blowing a stray lock from her face with a puff of breath as she tossed a bulky CO2 gun to the floor. "Might not be the 'Time Lord way', but where I come from, _this_ is how we freeze impending threats."

"But..." he sputtered as his mouth dropped. How did she even know he had a CO2 gun? Did _he _even know he had one? "How'd-"

"Guess I figured they'd be standard on TARDISes," she shrugged. "Last time we had a console fire on the Doctor's TARDIS, it was my quick thinking that put out the electrical fire. The Doctor was off trying to calculate who_ knows_ what, just like you," she explained, gesturing toward him with a wave of her hand as if to prove her point. "And anyway, void stuff doesn't like heat. Cool it off like the nothingness of the void, and the excited particles die down."

He stood, blinking at her from over the rims of his dark glasses. "Where did you say you came from again?"

"I didn't," she replied, an edge in her voice. But then her eyes softened and her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. "Powell Estate, London, 21 Century."

"And yet you're standing there talking about void particles and reality field converters as if they're no-never-mind to you- things that even Earth's brightest would have a hard time grasping centuries into your future."

Her brow shot up, her hand finding her hip which jutted out haughtily. "Careful now. That's almost a compliment, coming from you."

"_Hardly_," he muttered sourly, quickly occupying himself with the TARDIS detection controls to ensure the threat had passed, and definitely, most assuredly _not_ to avoid her gaze. He shot her a furtive glance to see a knowing smirk pressing at the edge of her mouth. Oh wasn't she just sitting pretty? Thinking she was _so_ clever! "And anyway," he began in an irritated rush, "if _you_ hadn't so rudely interrupted my experiment, my hand wouldn't have slipped and none of this would have happened in the first place, you _stupid girl._"

"Oh is that so, _your worship_?" she shot back sarcastically, folding her arms as she came to rest on the dash next to him. "'Cos I seem to recall warning you about a thermal overload as soon as I stepped in the room."

"Which you then proceeded to _cause_," he retorted without looking up. Honestly, he was starting to wonder if the aberrant child was more trouble than she was worth. She was a loose cannon, a wild card with a loose and wild tongue to match, a pinch of untethered chaos wreaking havoc in his immaculate, systematized world of uncontested authority and '_will that be all my lord_?' And somewhere between the humorously insane introductory line of '_this can't be right_' and '_you stupid girl_', things had gotten entirely out of hand. He'd been far too permissive of her ingrained petulance, and he secretly wondered if he'd hadn't already passed that invisible line where he'd already let her get away with too much. Where she'd inevitably force his hand to do something downright tragic and final to rectify the situation before it went any further.

"I know what I'm doing, you know," she nearly whispered.

The abrupt change in the cadence of her voice was enough to snap his head up and he found himself suddenly taken off guard. Somehow she'd managed to get exceedingly close again, looking up at him solemnly with those golden brown eyes of hers, hair a bit frazzled, make-up long since worn away, but inexplicably looking as lovely as ever. And there was that maddening fragrance again... Then his eyes flitted to her full lips, bottom lip overly plump compared to the top, and his memories surfaced once more of how they _literally_ tasted of time... of stardust and vortex and eternity itself.

Perhaps... perhaps he _could_ endure her unruly antics for a bit longer. At least until he was able to get her under control. Because if he could tame her..._ oh_ if he could tame her the possibilities could be endless with a connection like theirs. His libidinous black mind began to drift, but then she spoke again, abruptly reminding him that she was in fact trying to make some sort of point, inconsequential though it likely was.

"You gotta understand, the dimension cannon only works because of the darkness itself," she began in what he could only assume was going to be a rather lengthy elucidation. Sighing, he reigned in his lewd fantasies and made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the dash to cross his arms attentively. Best not dissuade her from volunteering information he wanted to get, after all.

"It's fracturing time and space everywhere," she continued. "We slide through the cracks that have already been established, causing as little damage as possible- just a tiny little hole to press the jumper into reality at the moment of reentry. The device itself cleans up the time debris, using it to fuel to recharging cycle." He cringed at her rather crude description of the ghastly process and noted her sly attempt to downplay the risks, but didn't interrupt.

"We've been looking for a way to travel back to the point of origin to find the crucial convergence, but the closer we get, the more dangerous it is. All the surrounding universes of my home universe have been devoured. We've been skirting around the edges, but if we push too far beyond, we could end up in nothingness. Problem is- the greater the distance, the more power is needed. And jumps take _hours_ to recharge. But at this point, we're not sure we could ever get enough power to get all the way back."

"That's because you're coating the plasma shell with sub-par materials," he blurted before he could stop himself. "Coat the plasmic shell with enough dwarf-star alloy and you can boost the power by 3000% and cut your charging cycle down to half an hour."

Her captivating mouth spread into a smile, growing until her teeth shined brightly. And just like that, his mind was effectively wiped clean of all intelligent thought. God, she was stunning when she smiled. He shook his head into functioning cognizance, inwardly chastising himself for the baseless reaction.

"You're brilliant," she complimented as she swayed excitedly, entirely oblivious to his inner conflict. "But then I knew you would be. 'Cos you're like him. That's why I stayed you know. I was hoping you'd help me."

"Oh I have no intention of helping you, Rose," he declared dryly as he hopped to his feet and found his hands at the blessedly familiar and _mind-focusing_ controls. "Like I said, the chances of catastrophic failure are simply too high. If nothing else, this whole debacle ought to prove that." Nor did he have the slightest intention of _ever_ letting her go. None of his servants left his employ. Once they'd been processed, they served for life. No exceptions.

Her mouth fell open in confusion. "But you just-"

"I simply explained how to overcome your problem," he clarified loftily, not without a pinch of satisfaction at hearing the disappointment lining her voice. "Never said I'd _actually _do it." Under the guise of genuine action, he idly checked the ship's taranium fuel levels, pressure gauges, and various other superfluous readouts, pressing his thin lips into a one-sided smirk.

"_Hang on_... you know my name," she stated rather than asked in a sudden turn of the conversation.

"Course I do," he affirmed without looking up, as though it should only be obvious. "I saw into your mind." Annoyingly, it proved to be the _only_ method to procure the information she refused to relinquish willingly. Though he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the experience.

"Please... _please_ be careful with it," she urged, a gentle hand coming to rest on his black velvet sleeve. "I'm not 'sposed to be here. Any events I get tangled in could significantly alter the course of history for you and your universe."

His gaze dropped to the unsolicited contact. Ordinarily he would have sternly admonished a servant for daring to touch him, but the action seemed so very instinctual for the woman, so heartfelt and... _human_. And strangely- not _nearly_ as vexing to this current form as it had been in past incarnations. Or perhaps it was simply that _she _was the one doing the touching. Ought not his official consort be afforded some measure of leniency in this regard? Still... as insignificant as it undoubtedly was to her, it was quite unfamiliar territory for him to be touched voluntarily without fear on her half or intent on his. It was an odd dichotomy to behold: the prey approaching the predator with neither cringe nor recoil. And for whatever the reason, he couldn't seem to summon his usual predacious instinct to fight it. Instead he sighed wearily, finally turning to look her dead in the eye, eager to put this all behind them and settle the matter once and for all. "Rose, I'm a _Time Lord_. I know what I'm doing. _You _don't._"_

Instantly, her expression soured. "Actually, I _can_ do this by myself if I have to. And I will," she snapped with puffy indignation, tucking her arms into one another. "You just watch."

He pocketed his glasses and scrutinized her, raw curiosity rather than anger piquing his interest. "Oh, is that so? And pray tell, just _how_ do you intend on doing that, madam?"

"Dunno. But I'll find a way," she insisted with a sniff, jaw thrust in the air. "I always do. But if you know what's good for you, you'll give me a hand 'cos with each day I waste here, the task becomes more impossible."

"Rose, by your own admission you can't do this," he asserted animatedly with a breath that was either an exasperated laugh or another sigh. "Impossible infers absolute failure, no viable solutions, nothing but the same inevitable conclusion." Surely she had to see the inherit dangers of what she was trying to accomplish. For an intelligent human, she certainly failed to see reason whenever the occasion suited her.

"But you said it yourself: I'm an anomaly. I'm the exception to the rule. I created myself to protect the chain of events that _must_ happen. I saved the parallel you at a critical juncture, and when I did, I saw everything that was and all that could be. Even this conversation," she pronounced with a wiggle of her finger between them. "Granted, I don't remember a bit of it, but there's no way in hell I'd have seen the darkness and then just let it happen. That's why I know I'm gonna get back to him. I don't know how, I don't even know when, but I will. And I've got to, 'cos I'm the only chance he has."

Something hot and savage gripped at his chest at hearing _his _consort refer to her past lover. He didn't fancy sharing his things, not with anyone, parallel counterpart or not. She was his now, completely and _entirely_ his, and the sooner she accepted her fate, the better. "It's _never_ going to happen, Rose," he stressed, leaning in with a biting sneer. "You're not getting back to him, so just forget it."

"Never say never ever," she countered crossly, an indomitable flash in her eyes. With an agile sidestep, she marched over to retrieve both halves of the dimension cannon hopper- one from off the scorched floor, snatched a ganymede driver tool from off the dash, sat herself down in_ his _captain's chair, and delicately began the process of repair. Or at least, she _could_ have repaired it if she weren't currently holding the wretched thing backwards.

He tilted his head, biting back a chuckle at the sight of her, but she stubbornly kept on, oblivious to why it wasn't working. It was enough to break him from his embittered mood, arms crossed, head shaking in amusement until he was full-on grinning, and then finally laughing heartily.

"What are you on about?" she grumbled testily.

"I think, my unexpected girl," he said with a smile as he leaned down, "you forget whose ship this is and whose equipment you are using." He delicately extricated the tool from her hand only to reveal several blistering burns along her palm from the unfortunate episode before, red and angry. No doubt she was in pain, but she was hiding it remarkably well. Somehow this didn't surprise him in the least. In the short time he had gotten to know this woman, he had seen the extent of her selflessness, and her proclivity to put her own well-being behind all else. Even, it would appear, her pride. He gently lifted her hands to inspect them, his thumbs running over the edge of the tender skin.

"I'm not just doing this for him you know," she whispered, looking up at him in earnest, and he suddenly found his breath hitching in his chest at just how close they both were to one another, close enough for their breath to mingle. "I'm doing this to save _you_ too."

Save _him? _The lines on his face grew hard, and he gritted his teeth. "_I don't need saving_." He tore from her, stepping around the hexagonal time rotor to the other side, working at the controls once more.

"Right then, maybe you don't," she conceded in a manner that most certainly indicated that she didn't believe a word she just said. "But you said yourself you've been in my head. So you know the threat is real. Fancy dissolving into nothing then, Time Lord? 'Cos that's what's gonna happen, you know. _Everything _you've ever done, every victory, every stupid trophy, it's all gonna vanish into nothingness." She hopped lightly to her bare feet, padding along the cold floor to stand beside him as he occupied himself by redundantly notching the switches on the worm hole refractors, anything to keep his hands busy. "And if there's anything I've learned since I've been taken, it's that _you_ are a selfish bastard and a coward."

In an instant, he had swooped upon her, reaching out and snatching her raw palm, twisting her hand in his own as she dipped in pain. His angry eyes latched onto hers with unbridled fury. "I will not _tolerate_ your mouth any longer, _slave_." He was not above violence as punishment. Or torture. _Or anything_ else his vile imagination could conjure up for that matter. She was playing a dangerous game, a game which if she kept up, she would most assuredly lose.

"No I get it. I do," she insisted with strained nod of her head and a forced smile. He dug deeper, pressing his thumbnail deep into the tender flesh and she grimaced much to his satisfaction. "You don't want to disappear. That's what I'm counting on. Hell _none_ of us do," she grunted before he finally relented. Free of his grasp, she took a broad step back, kneading her red hand but otherwise looking unfazed. "So what are you going to do to stop this, then, hm? You've got the most formidable enemy you'll ever face hunting you _right now_. And he doesn't rest, he doesn't hesitate, he doesn't stop. All he does is eat eat eat and he's coming for you and me and all your precious little trinkets alike."

Her words had struck their mark, and he suddenly found his eyes resting on the smooth clear glass of the time rotor, its crystallized pump sitting serenely in its encasing, his distorted reflection gazing back at him. He couldn't explain it, _resented_ it even, but for some obscure reason, he trusted this creature. He had indeed peered into her soul, as she had his. And she was without doubt a reckless insufferable _maddening _vociferous idiot... but an honest one. Therefore this darkness, whatever it was, must be real too.

But this was utterly _mad! _All of it! The way she was stepping through fractures... Ripping holes at her discretion...

"If we're doing it wrong, then help us," she pleaded as if reading his mind, placing another soft squeeze on the crook of his bent arm resting on the dash with her other hand. "'Cos, much as I hate to admit it, you are more clever than me. And... I need you."

Again, he was floored. Floored that after the pain he had just caused her, after seeing straight into the blackened bottomless pit that was his being, she still dared touch him, attempting to appeal to his humanity as if she thought he had any to speak of. Why? How in any realm where logic prevailed could she ever arrive at such a method? Did she not just reveal that he was but a selfish coward?

And was she not right?

He bit his lip begrudgingly. Then she had won this battle. She had correctly predicted that given the choice, he'd fight against this darkness to prevent his own destruction, effectively manipulating him into doing just what she wanted. And he would because he must; seemed he had little choice in the matter.

He turned to face her. "Let's get one thing straight. If I do this-" at which point her smile exploded, "I said _if_," he pointed sourly with a raise of his brows, trying not to focus on that incredible immobilizing power of hers, "then it's not to help you get back. It's to stop this darkness for myself." He glared at her, bracing for her inevitable arguments, her ineluctable squabble, but it never came. Instead she was practically bouncing on the heels of her feet, grinning wildly from ear to ear. "I-I said I'm not letting you go," he repeated, looking over her expectantly.

"Mm-hmm," she hummed affirmatively.

He held her gaze for a minute, waiting for... well waiting for _what_ he wasn't quite sure. Reluctantly, he strode to the other end of the console to view the monitor before whipping out his head to catch her line of sight again, his eyes narrowed and searching, but her grin had not faltered. From his pocket, he found his glasses, unfolding them and resting them on his nose. "As it so happens," he announced with a stuffy air, straightening the hem of his velvet coat, "I've already calculated the number of processes required to synthesize the gas. Four-thousand, two-hundred and thirty-seven to be precise. Fortunately, you're looking at the universe's top scientist."

Incomprehensibly cheerful, she practically pranced over next to him, her purple silk gown swaying at her feet as she rested her chin upon his shoulder to peer down at the monitor. He froze, head swirling with the ambrosial scent of her hair. Unexpected indeed. He was utterly baffled by this enigma, this unpredictable girl. He cleared his throat. "Y-your presence is not required, Rose," he managed to mutter lamely.

"Oh I know," she voiced mischievously. She twirled around him in a whirl of silk and happily sat herself down to resume tinkering with her severed dimension hopper. "But you could use another pair of hands, and I'm smarter than I look, _honest_."

Not without a healthy dose of apprehension, he regarded the girl slouched in chair. Did he like servants in his console room? Particularly loud-mouthed, distracting, infuriating servants with smiles that ought to be outlawed? Not really. But again, the girl was right. And though he could easily have asked any number of his servants to assist, none of them already knew the intricacies of the technology and corresponding compounds that needed synthesizing except her. With a resigned sigh, he leaned down to grasp her hand, whipping out his laser screwdriver. Setting 435 ought to do it. "Here... let me take care of your burns," he spoke gently. "Not much good as a second pair of hands if you can't use them, now are you?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5  
**

Tiresome. _That_ was the term for such an arduous process, he decided as he stood huddled over the latest batch of reactions. It didn't help that his assistant had long since retired. While Rose had managed to reign in her disrespectful tongue enough to work competently, she was unwittingly as distracting as ever, larking about in that scintillating gown of hers which did nothing but pester him with stimulating memories of its removal the night before. He was glad to be rid of her just to clear his head, if only for a few hours. It was a good theory, except that his thoughts were still wholly occupied by the girl whether present or not. In her absence he expected relief and increased efficiency. In actuality, he had neither, enduring cycles of juggling several dinging chemical reactors in a mad rush followed by deafening silence.

Admittedly, she wasn't nearly as much of a nuisance when she wasn't busy grabbing things from his hands or rattling his patience by arguing for constant current rather than constant potential during the electrosynthesis process. In fact, he was starting to see that she was a substantial help, though he'd never tell _her_ that. Having an extra pair of hands made the work go more smoothly what with the first stage requiring several overlapping short reactions that needed constant oversight. It was a concession he made with little enthusiasm as he muttered under his breath, finishing up the last extrication by himself.

As his thoughts were then left to drift, he racked his brain for anything that might explain of what this darkness consisted. That was the most difficult part. _It was nothing_, she'd told him. _Even the void was dead. _The void by all rights was a darkness all on its own, a harsh unrelenting wasteland of crushed dimensions stacked infinitely, absent of time. Tales told in countless tongues spoke of it- a place of eternal perdition and damnation. And while most fanciful myths were little more than baseless folklore to scare the young and impressionable, these had an element of truth at their heart. The void was the _literal_ manifestation of hell. How his unexpected girl ever managed to navigate the execrable place, he had no idea, and it wasn't an endeavor he was keen to try. Question was: what formidable power could consume hell itself? And more to the point, could it be stopped?

Maybe synthesizing the dielectric gas was the easier task in this quest. What if reaching the source of this destruction offered no feasible solutions? Rose had been adamant that all that needed doing was going back to a critical convergence and stopping an as yet unknown action from occurring, but as a Time Lord he knew things weren't always that simple. One of his few limitations was that his time sense was confined to his own reality. For all he knew, whatever action occurred to spark this cataclysmic chain of events could be irreversible, a fixed point, forever dooming all of creation. That may be, but he wasn't going down without one heck of a fight. It wouldn't be the first time he had bent the laws of time in his favor.

And perhaps the most perplexing piece of the puzzle- Rose claimed it originated from her universe. Of all the infinite parallels, in all creation, it was tied to _hers._ She'd said herself she had once seen all that was and ever could be when she absorbed the time vortex. Surely this wasn't all some coincidence. What hand did she have to play in all of this?

"Oi, mind the compounds!" So engrossed was he, he hadn't even heard the girl enter, and he jumped at her sudden appearance to his left. Quickly sliding on a pair of protective gloves, she tended to the galvanic cell which was starting to smoke, extricating the byproducts carefully from the beaker before throwing him a searching glance. "You alright there, mate?"

"Fine," he mumbled, handling yet another dinging batch of chemicals sitting on the long table he had brought into the control room. The place had been overrun with equipment, all wires and reactors and glass, and while it cluttered his otherwise spotless console chamber, he'd been too far in his element to fret.

She tossed her gloves to the side. "Blimey, this is gonna be tedious, innit?"

"Quite," came his terse reply as he measured the yield, scanning a beaker with his laser. "The processes will be repetitive and laborious. It'll no doubt be taking up most of my time for the next few months," he sighed languidly. "_Pity._ I had such grand plans."

"Yeah?" she prompted curiously, plopping down in the captain's chair next to the console, leg dangling lazily over the armrest in a puddle of pale silk the color of champagne. "Go on then, spill."

After a long appreciative eyeful of her lovely nonchalant form draped across the chair, he managed a reply. "I was thinking of paying Junnis-Clave a visit. They dare claim to have perfected the art of computer-integrated cerebral communication. Their technology has allowed for a society based in applied telepathy, resulting in a zen-like state of communal consciousness. Halls of Prosperity, they call it. I mean to see it for myself."

"And by visit you mean-"

"Destroy them, of course."

"Ah," she nodded before pursing her lips and tilting her head. "Why's that then?"

"Why not?" he countered, picking up another beaker to measure another round. "They claim to have achieved nirvana but they haven't ascended on any meaningful level. They're simply experiencing electrical impulses of the brain interacting with the collective to induce lower cognitive function and spike neurotransmitters. It's nothing more than a mental high. In other words, they're reducing their mental capacity and calling it enlightenment. Such arrogance. Such _ignorance_. I'd be doing them a favor, honestly."

Suddenly she sat up, leaning over her knees as she propped her face up, hands tucked under her chin. "Oh you don't have time for any of that. I mean, why bother? This universe is old hat by now. Nah, you get the dimension cannon rebuilt and you can spread your influence throughout an entirely new universe, completely untouched."

He dipped his nose to survey her from over the tops of his glasses, bemused by her vagarious banter. Undoubtedly she had no real desire for him to do any such thing, her being of a more... compassionate persuasion than himself, and he found the glaring contrast of her character to be most entertaining. Obviously she was having a go at winding him up.

"And, you, sir, who fancies competition so much, you could stare down your true equal in an unmatched battle of wits," she carried on with the utmost enthusiasm. "Two Time Lords, last of their kind. Battle to end _all _battles!" Splaying her hands in gesticulation, she squinted off in the distance as if in awe.

With a snicker, he came to rest against the edge of the work surface, deciding on a whim to humor her. "What makes you think I won't cross over just to end him and keep you for myself?" he teased playfully. Or at least,_ she_ thought he was teasing.

"Why naturally you'd _try,_" she gibed with a cheeky grin and a breezy flip of her sleek, straightened hair off her bare shoulder. "I mean I _am_ rather marvelous? Who wouldn't battle across the cosmos for the best lab assistant in all of creation?"

He laughed freely. "Oi, and you have the audacity to scold me for _my_ ego. Who has the big head now?"

A pink tongue peeked out from between her teeth in what was still somehow a smile, and his grin only widened. "Seriously though," he began. "What makes him so special?" If he could coax information out of her in any subtle way, he oughtn't pass up the opportunity, particularly concerning this _other_ him.

"Ah, well it's all about the screwdriver you see. He uses sonic." A lopsided smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. _C__lever_, keeping up the raillery while avoiding divulging anything of importance, but already she was off again, spouting more nonsense. "Sonic screwdrivers are _sooo _impressive," she whispered huskily as her chin dropped in a suggestive manner.

The unabashed innuendo had his feet moving of their own volition, and he was now only too eager to sustain the frivolity. "Oh is that right?" he responded lowly, standing in front of her, hands stuffed in his pockets. "And laser screwdrivers _aren't_. Is that what I'm getting here?"

"You said it not me," she teased with a little scrunch of her nose, tongue sweeping to the side of her mouth challengingly._ Oh _she had him snagged, but she'd soon learn he wasn't called the Victor for nothing.

"I'll have you know my screwdriver could out-power a sonic device a million fold," he attested, leaning in with a sly grin.

"Oh, but see it's not about the raw power," she affirmed with a raise of her brow. "It's about skill, about using your wit rather than your brawn."

"Tell me, love, are we still talking about screwdrivers?" Already he could feel the heat rising, and he had half a mind to let the compounds fry while he showed her just how _skilled_ he was.

"Down boy," she chided with a dismissive half-laugh, sliding off the chair and hopping to the table. "Better get back to work. These compounds won't sort themselves, after all." And in a prophetic shrilly ding, the chemical reactor at the end signaled its completion.

Perhaps it was the sight of his dazzling mistress donning unflattering safety eyewear and oversized synthetic gloves which augmented the contradictions mulling in his brain. His intelligence was nonpareil, yet he still could not fathom the peculiarity that was Rose Marion Tyler. On one hand she readily surrendered her freedom to stop a child from harm, on the other she enticed him to conquer her universe, inviting him to a mortal duel with her past flame. Then she went from wanton coquetry to clinical disconnect in an about-face that left him reeling. Just what went on in that impossible brain of hers?

Ah, but for her jest was not just good fun, was it? It was deflection. It was _defense_. Just what was she protecting?

And then he understood; by encouraging him to channel his energies into trans-universal conquest, she was counting on him being too engrossed to wreak havoc. Perhaps that offered a momentary reprieve to the inhabitants of this universe, granted, but what did she hope to accomplish once he'd succeeded in crossing over? Because he undoubtedly would. While he had every intention of stopping the darkness, he had absolutely no intention of letting this_ Doctor_ live past his usefulness. Not only was this Time Lord inherently a threat, and a _great _one at that, he had an inkling that he might become a problem where Rose was concerned. He didn't lose, not to anyone. And if she thought he was beyond terrorizing her universe or ending her lover she was sorely mistaken. "No really though," he began. "What do you think I'm going to do when these compounds are done?"

She stilled at his question, lowering the beaker but not her eyes which rested on the white roundels along the far end of the dome. Then she shifted on her bare feet, scrutinizing him in deliberative silence. "I think you're gonna let me save the universe." She stated it with such assurance, such conviction, and in those brown eyes of hers he saw both a petition and an unuttered call to action. Such wasted sentiments...

"Rose," he sighed, pocketing his glasses. "I think you are projecting _his_ qualities onto me. Maybe that's what he'd do, but... the truth is I'm not him. I'm a ruthless killer, the Time Lord Victorious, the most feared being in all the universe. Certainly no Doctor. And I'm not what you'd conventionally call a 'good person'."

She dropped her gloves and folded her arms, casually leaning against the table top. "I don't think that's true."

By now he ought to be used to the idiosyncrasies of her responses, but nothing could prepare him for such a mind-boggling conclusion. With a cross between a scoff and a laugh, he shook his head in utter disbelief. "What makes you say such a thing?"

"Well the way I see it, I don't think you really _want_ to do all those bad things," she contended thoughtfully. "I saw in your head. You're just lonely, and so you force people to interact with you so you aren't all alone. 'Cos you haven't got a friend in the universe. _Well..._ 'cept me anyway."

At her affirmation, he was utterly mystified yet _again, _and it took a moment for him to fully process her answer. It was enough of a jar to make him temporarily forget to correct her rather inaccurate misguided assessment. "You... consider _me_ a friend? Your _captor_?"

She blew out a breath. "Well yeah. I mean, you're not a bad bloke when you're not off in one of your moods trying to prove a point," she said with a shrug. "You're actually kinda fun to hang around."

For once speech failed him, and he was left standing with nothing but a sidelong glare to offer. Was this some sort of trick? Never before had anyone _ever _wanted to be around him just for the sake of it. Surely there was some ulterior motive... "_Really_?" he managed to breath.

But then she grinned that Rose Tyler grin, so open and truthful and uninhibited and he had his answer, unlikely though it was. A new kind of heat was spreading across his skin, warming up his palms and flushing at his ears, a most bizarre sensation that he couldn't quite define.

"Yep," she nodded as she rocked on her heels slightly, dress grazing along the floor. "That's why I know when the time comes, you'll do the right thing."

He couldn't quite find the words to correct her. Instead, he dropped his gaze to his work, fumbling with the reactors and testing connections in quiet contemplation. Did she truly think he went about conquering and acquiring servants simply because he was... lonely? She couldn't be further from the truth. He was the Lord of Time. He bent the universe to _his_ will, and there was nothing and no one to contest his intrinsic right to take what he desired.

Honestly, he shouldn't be surprised. Her humanity was her greatest fault, the gaping weakness in that iron armor of resolve she so proudly wore. And it was but a symptom of the greatest shortcoming of her inferior species really, that _erroneous_ ideology that there was somehow any meaning to be found in a reality constructed of nothing but molecules and atoms, bound by the cold, calculating laws of physics. As if reducing actions or people into pretentious classifications like 'bad' or 'good' held any measurable scientific significance. Humans and the like were always trying to interject empathy into a cold and unforgiving universe, so was it any wonder that her compassion blinded her to his monstrous villainy? _No matter._ What she thought of him was irrelevant, so long as she performed her duties adequately at his behest. And right now it wasn't her sympathy nor her misplaced faith he required, but her assistance with the task at hand.

With little warning, he was broken from this thoughts by a flash of beige at his side. She bumped into him with a jaunty little swing of her hip, and just like that, off she went about the silliest of things, somehow drawing him into her revelry. She claimed she didn't like working in absolute silence, and it was then that he realized, he didn't either.


	6. Chapter 6

**Feeling under the weather today and not up for work, so you get an early chapter! ;)**

**Chapter 6**

Thus began the new normal- that was if _normal_ could ever be an adequate term for the perpetual motion that was his life. For the past four days he'd been tucked away in the control room, forgoing his usual duties aboard the ship as he toiled over the chemical synthesis. Without fail, she'd come barging in the same time every day with all her typical grand bravado, full of jokes and unwarranted smiles.

It was a foreign existence, having the constant company of an attendant who spoke with no reservations. And while by all rights it ought to bother him, there was something almost strangely... _lightening_ about her unconventional presence. It wasn't without a healthy dose of trepidation that he acknowledged his growing attachment to his new favored possession, simply by the glaring fact that he hadn't killed her yet. Had anyone else of less value or of less interest committed but a fraction of the offenses as this peculiarity, they'd have died a painful gory death. While up until now he stayed his hand merely in an attempt to decipher some facet of her impossibility, he had already passed the point of conceding that such a feat may just be as impossible as she.

She had yet to arrive as he worked alone. With nimble fingers and a light touch, he carefully sealed the last batch of sorted compounds in their respective containers, stocking them with care against the make-shift storage area that had since sprung up along the perimeter of the console chamber. The first set of reactions were nearly complete, thank heavens. The most strenuous part of the process was nearly behind them.

With a broad yawn, he rubbed at his strained eyes just as the sound of opening doors trumpeted her arrival. He didn't even turn. Only _one_ person would have the audacity to do such a thing. A smirk found the edge of his mouth as he spoke. "You're late."

"Oh, sorry," she called. "I was just off exploring the ship." Fair enough. He didn't explicitly say she had to be there at a set hour after all, and he was glad she was settling in. Perhaps it was a sign that she had accepted her fate.

He finally looked up from his work to see her come waltzing in, all silver chiffon and bouncing yellow curls as she picked up the pair of gloves without a second thought. "You look lovely," he complimented, taking in every curve before stepping around from behind her to aid in the extricating of the byproduct from the reactor.

"Oh, thanks," she replied indifferently with a shrug of her shoulders that sent a whiff of that enticing perfume-laced hair of hers his way. "Ayaliah's been doing my hair and all. Said it was the 'height of Sideus nobility' to wear it like this back on her world. Whatever _that _means," she snorted, expertly wiggling out the glass from one of the sides of the galvanic cell.

Did she not know just how rare and regal she truly was? There was nothing in all the universe like her, yet she spoke as if wholly unconcerned and unconvinced of her worth. He opened his mouth to speak as she tugged off a glove, but it was then that a glaring streak of red along her fair forearm caught his eye. His hand shot out, startling her as he lifted her arm up to inspect the inflamed scratch. "What is this?" he questioned sharply, tilting his head toward the offending mark.

She blinked at his rather forceful and terse reaction. "I just went for a couple of rounds at the sparring Colosseum. _Sheesh_," she bit, tugging her arm from his grasp.

"_What_?!" he balked, eyes wide. Had she any idea how dangerous the Colosseum could be? There were bloody battles to the death often, where challengers were paired up against all manner of creatures and opponents. He was in constant need of new warriors and beasts to fill the task. Save for the true elite hand-picked champions, they never lasted long. And it certainly wasn't a fitting place for one such as her.

"What's that look for?" she argued indignantly, hand finding her hip. "Thought we were allowed to roam free?"

"Rose, of all the endless wonders on my ship what makes you want to go off and do a thing like _that_?" he fussed chidingly.

"I get bored," she whined with a wave of her hand. "All this marble and glitter and glass, it's just not my style, kay? Sometimes a girl just wants to wear pants and vent her frustrations out."

"Yes but there are very _dangerous_ rules in the Colosseum."

"Yeah and whose fault is that?" she shot at him with a roll of her eyes. "Look, I know I could get challenged. I get it, but so far no one has. I've just been sparring, no matches or anything. Plus, I think they're all scared to hurt me, with them thinking I'm some sort of mistress to you. They all seem to be under the impression that we've been holed up together in here shagging all this time you've been away."

His mouth hung open in surprise, at both the notion that she somehow still didn't consider herself his consort, _and_ that his servants thought him compromised by a woman. Both matters would need addressing, but for now he'd start with the matter at hand. "Rose I forbid you to spar," he scowled sternly with a cross of his arms.

"_What?_" she cried angrily. "Why?"

"I don't have to have a reason," he snapped. "My word is law."

"Someone's in one of his moods," she murmured grumpily.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he retorted with a stuffy air, as another yawn found his lips unexpectedly. With the weight of several weary days on his feet bearing down on him, he collapsed in the captain's chair.

"Blimey, you look, knackered. Even you need sleep on occasion, Time Lord," she cracked.

In truth, it'd been days since he last rested, toiling relentlessly through the evenings while she retired to his chamber. "I'm fine," he replied, taking off his glasses, eyes bulging before rubbing at them with the back of his wrist.

"_Right._ I think I know what the problem is. Come on." In a sudden reversal of roles, she had reached down and brazenly grabbed_ his_ arm, tugging him unwillingly back onto his feet. She didn't let go of his hand as she lead the way back to his chamber. She threw him a knowing smirk over her shoulder as she pushed open the grand doors, and he suddenly wondered if she wasn't offering herself to him, his senses stirring at the thought.

Morning sunlight greeted him, streaming through the opulent chamber. Soft lavender puffs of clouds sailed along the sky infinitely across the horizon, ocean spread beneath. It was a splendid sight after spending days locked away in the console room. Already she had dropped herself onto the edge of the bed, patting beside her with a grin that sent his double heartbeat racing.

He hopped onto it with a grand spring, arms clasped behind his neck, feet crossed. With a satisfied nod of her head, she rose to leave. _Ah,_ so her intentions were not _quite _what he had hoped for. "Stay," he breathed, reaching out to stroke her arm as she considered him, dark brows drawn up in that contemplative manner to which he'd become accustomed. He wanted her again he realized, perhaps more than sleep, but he'd start with just her company for now. "Tell me," he prompted. "Tell me about the man with my face."

And just like that, she had plopped down onto the bed, rolling next to him. Without thinking, she'd grabbed his hand again, tracing circles along his palm as she reminisced. The voluntary contact was pleasant, her fingertips exciting the nerves of his hand with the lightest of touches. She spoke of her adventures, of a man with a blue box, a man who grabbed her hand and told her to run. Of courage and daring, of triumph and defeat. Of so many things.

He had _meant_ to be attentive, but the cadence of her voice was hypnotizing, her presence so palpable, her touch soothing like a healing balm. And somewhere along the line, he fell asleep.

As his lids parted, the world slowly blinked into view in a blur of vibrant sunset. A lone figure stood back-lit against the expanse, and his sharp eyes fastened fixedly upon the smudge of contrast. Despite the oppressive glare, there was no question as to whom it was. _Rose._ Ah. So she hadn't left him. His eyes adjusted, taking in the slope of her neck graced by supple curls. She stood absolutely still, statuesque and majestic, like a living sculpture of Venus herself. And the folds of her gown glowed in an ethereal light, filtering the sun glistening off the water. _Perfection._

Then, his goddess turned. "Mornin', sunshine," she smiled brightly, and for a moment his breath caught.

Suddenly he was on his feet, making his way towards her like a sailor to the siren, his thoughts singular and driving. His body ached for hers, to taste, to hold, to touch... to be graced by her light and her warmth. It was a need as surely as rest and raiment, as the very breath in his lungs. But just before reaching out, a soft knock broke him from his trance.

"My Lord," his gray man-servant interrupted, "nourishment is served in the dining hall."

"Oh thank goodness!" Rose exclaimed, grinning. "I'm famished!" As if to validate her assertion, her stomach growled ravenously. Her cheeks flushed, a hand rising to cover her mouth.

Just then, his_ own_ stomach pitched uncomfortably from lack of sustenance, and she erupted in a bout of giggles at the sound, effortlessly drawing laughter from his lips like water from a barren desert. "Alright," he conceded with sigh, offering his mistress his arm in a suave gesture. "Let's get the lady her nourishment."

The sunlight dwindled, giving way to the twilight hour as he escorted her to the dining hall, arm in arm. He could feel several pairs of eyes following their movements, the air tensing as the sounds of chinking glass and dulcet melodies quieted ever so slightly. Though his presence was hardly out of the ordinary, entering accompanied by a mistress would certainly do nothing to quell the supposed rumors making their way around the ship. Did they think him vulnerable? He scanned the room only to find gazes being carefully averted- as per the usual.

They were seated without delay at his designated table, just feet from balcony. The meal was sublime, _naturally. _He would expect nothing less from the celebrated chefs of Tannus 4. And it was only enhanced by the view of the emerging stars and the company of his lovely inamorata. While Rose didn't dine with customary manners, she held an inner refinement, looking out at the room with inquisitive interest. It was _her_ however, that had his attention.

His mind swam with anticipation of the night's possibilities as he watched her unashamedly, taking in the rhythm of her breath in the rise and fall of her chest, committing to memory that curious sheen in her brown eyes, and noting the way she licked her full lips after every fourth bite. They were the inconsequential details that most wouldn't bother with, things that hardly offered any meaningful answers. But he, being one who saw patterns in the most intricate of places, gathered them with earnest, hoping to unravel her mysteries one minute trait at a time. She enthralled him.

"Blimey, it's like a different place when you're here, innit?" she wondered aloud, voicing her train of thought.

He cast a casual glance out at the grand dining tables lined with chairs, their occupants hunched over in hushed conversations. "It's to be expected," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I _am_ the Lord of the manor, so to speak." And many hadn't seen his new face, though he was hardly wont to delve into matters concerning his regenerations, especially with one already so privy to the innermost details of his species.

"Don't you ever get tired of having everyone be afraid of you?" she queried, taking a sip of wine.

He pondered her inquiry, eyes coming to rest along the many priceless artifacts and decorative weapons lining the wall. "Not really, no."

"_Huh_," she nodded half-heartedly, lowering her cup to pick up her utensils.

Just then, a flurry of activity at the door drew his sharp gaze. An old man stumbled forth, two scaly Chula warriors from the back of the hall stepping in sync behind him, ready to dispatch of the servant at his command. He held his hand to stay them as the wretched thing fell at the feet of his table, the music and chatter stopping abruptly.

He knew this man- the famed architect of the planet Barcelona. He'd been on the ship for years, sculpting monuments and designing the display halls. In fact, many of the rooms the TARDIS created were based on his influence. For what purpose had he interrupted his meal?

From under the man's wrinkled scalp came a sniveling plea. "My Lord, I seek clemency. My hands are not able to work the mastery once so effortlessly wrought. My purpose has long since expired. I-I ask for rest, oh great one."

If his servants erroneously thought that his recent regeneration had somehow changed his character, they were sorely mistaken. Now was the time to obliterate such a notion. "Then you ask for death," he spoke from over the top of his wine, his voice like silk.

"Indeed," the man breathed. "If I am never to see my family again, then I wish to find them in the next life, where fates willing, things may be a bit more kind."

His eyes sharpened as he lowered his chalice. "I don't take requests, artisan. If it's rest you seek, then that is the one thing you shall never have. _Guards._"The two elite Chula warriors sprang forth, yanking the man to his feet as he yelped in wide-eyed alarm.

He stood over the ingrate, arms folded behind his back as he settled on a fitting sentence- one uniquely callous and most felicitous, something to strike fear into all who observed whist squashing any uncertainty or deluded hope.

"A bit more _kind _you say?" he mocked. "I could have been no kinder! You had a life of luxury. Have I not seen to your needs? Are my halls not fine? My food not satiating? My generosity not appreciated?" With a grand swipe of his arm, he gestured toward the lavish chamber. Then, he leaned in, lip curled. "For your insolence, you shall endure exhaustion and horrendous pain for the rest of your days _which I shall lengthen excessively with every means in my power_." The sharp words cut deeply into the man who nearly crumbled, held up only by the strength of the guards.

"My lord, please. Please, I beg of you!" he cried, his withered cheeks tear-stained as he struggled feebly in their grasp. "I am but an old man! _Please! _I only wish to die!_" _

He sneered delightedly, drinking in the man's pain, sweet as the wine in his cup.

"Stop," a small familiar voice breathed to audible gasps heard throughout the hall.

His chest seized with a chilling cold. Did she know she had just committed a capital offense? Eyes blazing, he shot her a warning glare. But ever absent of fear, Rose merely regarded him sadly. This only riled his already hostile mood. He did _not_ need this from her, especially not in front of an audience where she'd be afforded few leniencies. "Don't," he seethed. With but one word, he had granted her far more mercy than he'd ever bestowed before, and those watching knew it.

"You don't have to do this," she implored, rising to her feet, her face drawn up in concern.

"Oh but I do," he insisted. "No one leaves my employ unless_ I _allow it. Death is too kind a fate for this miscreant. And if you value your life, you won't interfere. You'll be granted no further abeyance." His laser screwdriver felt heavy in his pocket, boring a hole as assuredly as if it were powered on. Never had he'd been unable to do what needed doing, yet for the first time in all his life, he wasn't entirely sure he could.

"But he's an old man," she contended passionately. "He can't even work! Look at his shaking hands! By sending him home, no one is going to think less of you or your authority. We all know what you're capable of. We've seen it firsthand." She took two cautious steps forward, that steady gaze piercing straight into his blackened soul.

His hand twitched, but betrayed him, refusing to act. Suddenly he resented those cruel eyes of hers and their inexplicable power over him, and he found himself gritting his teeth in spite. "And what of bowing to the request of my consort? _Hm_? How would that look for my authority?"

"Consort?" Her expression furrowed in hurt. For the first time, he had truly wounded her, though unintentionally. "Is... is that all I am to you?" she uttered. "Is that all it was?"

He deliberated, feeling the eyes in the room as his jaw worked silently. "Yes, and yes," he replied. "Nothing more." But even as the cold words formed on his thin lips, something in the back of his mind hissed '_liar_'. In truth, the experience was wholly transcendent, earth-shattering, and unparalleled. But he refused to acknowledge their connection as anything but physically gratifying. Anything more would be a sign of weakness, of blatant debility utterly unbefitting of one of his station, no matter how entreating those troubled eyes of hers were.

Did-did she think they were... _more_? _Absurd._ She thought of him as but a friend, naively nescient though such an assumption was.

Perhaps it was time to show her his true nature, since she still seemed woefully unaware. And time to beat her at her own game in the process. If mercy was her weakness, then he'd put the power in her hands, force her to commit an unconscionable act in her foolish quest for altruism.

He strutted forward, chin in the air. "But if he seeks death and you wish to grant him his wish..." With a swift fluid movement, he pulled a gleaming sword from the mount on the wall, several servants jumping in alarm. "Then you be his harbinger of relief. Kill him yourself. Show us just how _merciful_ you are." He boldly extended the handle to her, brows lowered dangerously, conveying an unspoken warning lest she strike her master. If she attempted to do so, it would be the last thing she ever did.

Rose gazed upon the trenchant blade with defiance. Then, a devious smile spread upon her lips. Without warning, she took it from his grasp, wielding it high enough to glint under the overhead ambient lighting. The room collectively gasped. For a moment, he wondered if she were truly capable of such violence, but then she spoke. "I have a better idea. A proposal, Time Lord."

His eyes narrowed. "You have nothing to offer me that isn't already mine."

"Oh, is that so?" She sauntered to the side, her shimmering gray gown rustling along the floor as she threw him a purposefully distracting sultry look. "If I mean _nothing_ to you, then you ought to have no qualms if I wager my life on behalf of this man's in the Colosseum." She prodded the sword in the direction of the old architect hunched in a pathetic pile on the floor. "It's the only place where, by your _own_ laws, a life may be traded for another. Put me in the ring with Chan Coi 'Thet tomorrow night." With a swivel, she raised the weapon to the throat of the proud Chula warrior standing behind the artisan who gritted his stained, jagged teeth menacingly. "If I best him, then the man goes free to his own time and place, no gimmicks, no gotchas. If I lose..." She shrugged, lowering her weapon. "Well then, you'll be rid of that pesky consort who _dared_ challenge your authority and you'll get a marvelous show. Two for one. I've heard how much you enjoy blood. Never miss a match, they say."

"_If _you recall," he began sharply, with a sidelong glare, "you are forbidden from engaging in such activities."

That dark brow of hers shot up as she lifted the sword over her shoulder. "Actually, you said I couldn't _spar_. You said nothing about challenging."

His jaw dropped. She had him, and he knew it. Rose smirked, mouth twisted to one side, looking as if she'd somehow won the matter. This only made him angrier, and in his rush to to speak, he said what was forefront on his mind: "You're no match for him. You'd be slaughtered!"

"My problem," she shrugged indifferently, resting the tip of the sword against the floor, hands lazily perched upon the handle.

Then an awful realization reared its ugly head: once a challenge was extended, it could not be retracted. And sentencing servants to die in the Colosseum was standard procedure for misconduct or inadequacy, something she'd absolutely just exhibited. His rules were absolute. If he denied her this fight, he would be forced to make an example of her for her insubordination. If he allowed her the match, she stood no chance. Either way, she was dead.

A troubling darkness seized his chest, his stomach coiling unnaturally. But his lordly face, ever stoic, did not flinch. "Fine!" he spat furiously, throwing a hand in the air. He stomped toward the exit, pausing only to yell over his shoulder. "And when you get _butchered_, be it on your own head!" With that, he stormed from the room, terrified servants clambering to evade his wrath.


	7. Chapter 7

**Not sure when the next update will be. I need to write a few more chapters and they are taking quite a bit of my free time. I may need to update more like once every two weeks. It's been a blast writing this story so far. Hope you enjoy it as much as I have.**

**Chapter 7**

It was downright folly to think withdrawing to the solace of his console room would diminish his fury. Never had he been more wrong. Instead, he raged with all the unconstrained ferocity of the Time Lord Victorious, toppling fragile equipment and sending beakers careening across the room. The high-pitched sound of bursting glass was hardly satisfying. And as he loomed over the destruction with heaving shoulders and clawed hands, he was left wanting. In that moment, he craved the suffering of that deplorable artisan with rabid hunger, his vicious blood-lust all-encompassing, but he'd been reprehensibly denied his right by that blithering concubine.

Oh, the audacity! Why? _Why _must that insufferable woman be the epitome of insolence?! _He_ was the most cunning and devious creature in the entire universe. How ever did a mere _human_ best him?! Standing there with that presumptuous smirk of hers, flagrantly twisting his words to leave him looking like an utter fool before his subjects...

He ought to have wrenched that sword from her grasp and ended her right then. Had it been anyone else, he would have done so without a moment's hesitation. The wretched girl was getting under his skin, overriding his thought processes and commandeering his physiological responses like some rampant, virulent infection. _Why_ must she beset him so? It was maddening! His bony hands yanked at his dark locks, standing them on end as he paced back and forth, shoes crunching on glass.

While she was indisputably the beauteous rose of the sweetest scent, bringer of ecstasy and all things pleasant, she was also the proverbial thorn in his side. He, being the self-proclaimed authority on the matter, deemed her name most apt, irksome though it was to admit it. She was a femme fatale of unscrupulous trickery, a vexing temptress who had wound her thorny tendrils around his resolve and held it firmly captive.

Her weapon of choice: his own established rules. Rules which had served him well for nearly a millennium were now being exploited to suit her imbecilic, suicidal, schemes. It was the quintessential catch-22: Save her from the arena, and he'd be forced to end her for breaking the rules. Let her compete in the challenge, and she'd die a gory death. Either way, he was denied his most coveted possession, never to indulge in her saccharine company again. It was the very definition of a Cornelian dilemma- either outcome equally unacceptable. And he, the uncontested, omnipotent Lord of Time, could do nothing to prevent her ultimate demise. In cementing her death, she had won the sick game, fixing the cards in her contradictory favor. And he despised her for it- for taking herself from him.

_Why?_

He stopped in his tracks, eyes falling to the littered mess beneath his feet. What did it matter anyhow? Was this no less than she deserved? Fretting over a servant was hardly a worthwhile endeavor. She was beneath him, her brash ignorance only serving to solidify that blaring fact. And he had other business that needed tending. He'd already spent _far_ too long away from his regular duties since she'd arrived. And heaven knew he had enough work to keep him occupied for the next several months with all the synthesizations that needed doing...

But the same persistent question hammered his mind repeatedly, demanding response and he knew- he _knew_ that infernal woman would cloud his mind until he had his answer. Grinding his teeth in a fresh swell of anger, he stomped from the room.

He found her in the sparring area, having traded her gown for light-colored trousers and protective padding. No surprise there. To her credit, she appeared to be attacking a padded post in lieu of practicing with a living opponent. Another technicality she'd use to excuse her behavior, no doubt.

She was entirely unaware of his presence with her back to him, attacking the post with all the zest he would expect from one such as Rose Tyler. The others however, were quick to disengage, eying him with nervousness, their various shapes and appendages collectively bowing in fear. With nothing but a curt jerk of his head, they dropped their gear and hurried from the room to avoid the raw animosity rising off of him like visible steam.

It took only a moment for Rose to realize the room had gone unnaturally quiet. She spun around, pulling off her helmet with a flick of her neck to unleash a wave of yellow tresses damp with sweat, the fragrance hitting him square in the face. The thought of never smelling her again only made him more riled.

"Why?" he snapped, taking a commanding step toward her. "Why do this?!"

"Why not?" she shrugged indifferently, hiking the helmet under her right armpit.

He fumed, hands strangling the air. "_Don't. Test. Me!_" Tense fingers curled into balls before resting on his forehead, and he squeezed his eyes shut to regain some semblance of composure. He exhaled in a slow hiss before finally glancing back up. "Answer me straight. Why?"

"Because it's the _right thing to do_," she asserted, tossing her helmet and sword to the floor.

"You'd risk your life for a stranger? A stranger whose life is nearly spent?"

"Of course," she nodded. "I'd do it for anyone. You as well."

Her answer surprised him, and it took him a moment to realize that he'd lingered a second too long on her words. "And what of the darkness and your original task?" he spat. "What happens when you lose?!"

She took a deep breath, wiping the dampness at her hairline with the back of her hand. "Then you'll do the right thing and stop it for me."

"So you've nothing to say about your death then, hm? _Truly_? You don't care in the least that you're going to _die_?" She didn't answer, her figure merely standing there in relaxed contrapposto, the very exemplification of cool indifference despite her dire circumstances. "You're the most frustratingly idiotic, aggravatingly _backwards_ being I've ever encountered!" he cried out, arms slicing the air as he spun on the spot.

"'S not _my_ fault you've got barbaric rules in this ruddy place," she huffed, hand finding hip.

"The Colosseum rules were never mean to apply to one of your classification..."

"But that's just it," she interrupted. "You keep classifying us and tagging us like we're_ things._ But we're not toys. We're _people_! And the rules are just a symptom of a bigger problem."

"And what's that, _exactly_?" he lashed at her critical words, on the verge of snapping.

But then the shine in her eyes changed, lighting up with wonder as she closed the space between them. "You are amazing," she breathed with a hint of that smile that made his breath hitch. "There's nothing you can't do. And if you wanted to stop this, you could. One word, and this all ends. 'Cos it shouldn't be cold-hearted rules and gotchas that allow for a man to see his family again. That outta come from here." Two gentle hands came to rest on both his hearts, and his anger inexplicably melted away at her touch. "Don't you get it? The only thing standing in your way is yourself."

He stilled, swallowing uncomfortably. "I can't save you from this, Rose," he whispered.

"I never asked you to," she replied with a sad smile, letting her hands drop. "'Cos it's not _me_ who needs saving."

And then he realized that the sadness in her eyes was not for her impending fate, but rather him. Pity stirred in those timeless eyes of hers, and for the life of him, he couldn't fathom why. Yet _another_ thing he would never understand about this impossible, unexpected woman. She then broke off the moment, unstrapping her gear.

"Look, I'm sorry it's gotta be this way. I can't promise you that I won't stop trying to do the right thing if I survive. 'S just who I am. And if that bothers you, then you're just gonna have to kill me next time. Either that or stop hurting people." She paused to look up, tossing her padding to the floor. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need my rest. Big day tomorrow." With that, she side-stepped him and strode purposefully toward the door. He spun to watch her one last time, but it was only half a second before her golden hair disappeared from view.

Entirely drained of his anger, nothing but a cold emptiness remained in its place.

* * *

By the following evening, he'd managed to convince himself that he had better things to do than watch a sorely mismatched slaughter-fest, despite his thrill for blood. There was hardly any sport in it, he shrewdly told himself. Besides, if he were to stay on schedule, he needed to set up the next batch of reactions without delay. And the Faction Paradox filter needed replacing. _And_ his ship's energy reserves were running low... There was simply too much to be done instead of bothering with such frivolous activities.

Thus, instead of attending the much-anticipated challenge, he'd stubbornly found himself overseeing a fresh round of reactions, checking ratios and measuring yield above his newly restored table. It was a routine that had since become habit, and he found some comfort in the tedious process, save for the conspicuous absence of his lab assistant.

All he could do was wait, internally marking off each passing second like some morbid countdown, waiting to hear of news. Somehow he'd become nothing but a glorified clock- drumming the side of the table in real-time, so tightly wound he was practically unhinged._ For shame_. The Lord of Time, reduced to _this, _anxiously counting down the moment when his greatest warrior slayed his favored treasure.

She was right, of course. To him, servants and lesser beings _were_ but possessions, like any rare work of art or priceless historical artifact. And if Chan Coi 'Thet was his sharpest weapon, what did that make her?

He chuckled silently at the ridiculous irony. It was only obvious, was it not? The painfully cliché description was as drearily banal as it was accurate; Rose was a flower in the genuine sense. She was a bloom to be held, smelled, and enjoyed. Trimmed, pruned, and put on display. And everything about her was so very... _ephemeral_. To put it in the words of the artisan, even if fate and fortune had been _a bit more kind_, in the end she would still have withered and died. No matter what he did, whether by time, or by the hand of Chan Coi 'Thet, he would inevitably lose her. Seemed fate was simply not on her side.

He moaned, swiping off his glasses to pinch the bridge between his nose. Such menial work was simply not enough to divert his idling mind. Out came his screwdriver as he heated a batch to speed the process, but even as the red light raked along the boiling liquids, he noticed a slight trembling of his traitorous right hand. He held it up, eying it as if it were some bizarre, alien thing conspiring against him. Then, the sight all but disappeared as his mind was overcome yet again with the same haunting visions- of silk sheets and blond hair, of two brown eyes furrowed in hurt when he'd called her nothing but a consort, when he'd insinuated their dalliance was nothing but a carnal act. He'd lied when he'd spoken those words; of _that_ he was sure. But just where the lie lay was less certain.

A sudden knock startled him, causing him to jostle the table. Then, his stomach dropped with an awful realization- Rose _never _knocked. Slowly, he turned. Each step toward the door filled him with heavy dread, pounding out the final countdown. With a mighty tug, he swung open the double doors.

Sikah, his man-servant, stood before him, holding a tray. The bald, gray humanoid bowed lowly. "Your scheduled sustenance, my Lord."

He let out a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, and he looked down to find he'd grasped the handle of the door for support. He'd been so occupied, he'd totally forgotten that he had arranged for his meal to be brought to him in private.

_Then there was still time..._

Suddenly he was in motion, his feet moving of their own violation, running toward the Colosseum with growing resolve. It seemed Rose was right yet again- he _could_ stop this, because it was his privilege. _He _was Lord of the Castle. There'd be reparations to be made, that he conceded, but if the cost was blood, it would not be hers. He was far too selfish a creature to lose her, consequences be damned.

There were abnormally few servants in the halls as he rushed by, and the thought sat unnaturally in his stomach as he'd realized they'd all gone to watch her die- and_ he'd _allowed it. He pushed harder, long legs sprinting, his respiratory by-pass system kicking into full-gear. He was in perimeter hall of the lower level of the Colosseum, then the second level, pushing to the max around the graded walkway as the sounds of animated, excitable chatter filtered through the open stairwells. At long last, he reached the top as he barreled into the officiator's box, throwing open the heavy doors with frantic haste.

"Stop the match!" he hollered to a room full of shocked servants, his black shoes skidding to a halt.

One of the obese blue officiators in decadent, velvet robes looked upon him as if he'd dribbled on his shirt. Then, gathering his wits, he dipped his head. "M-my apologies, my Lord, but the match has just ended. The winner has already been declared."

The air suddenly felt as though it had been ripped from the room, like an open hatch to the black of space. And even as he sucked in a quick breath, it was haggard and strained and hardly sating.

He was too late...

_Rose was gone_.

Slowly, his dark eyes fell, his breathing decelerating along with everything else in the room. The clock had stopped. It was then that he realized he'd been far more attached to that nettlesome little flower than he ever thought possible, thorns and all. Rose Marion Tyler was no more, and _he'd_ let her die. The very thought left him breathless, his chest seizing in unanticipated... _pain_.

A low voice called to him from behind, and he whipped around to see the plump man had moved to the entrance while he'd been lost in thought. The man's stubby, ringed fingers waved to his left. "The victorious one, my Lord." Then, his large frame stepped to the side to reveal...

"_Rose_!" he breathed in utter relief. In two long strides, he'd crossed the room, nearly crushing her to him. Suddenly aware they were still in front of an audience, he caught himself just in time, hands balling into tight fists to keep himself from overreacting. "Are you damaged?" he managed in a somewhat impartial voice. Then his impatient hands found the sides of her bruised face as he gingerly lifted her chin to examine her- a half-cocked ruse to satiate his raw need to touch her. Though her disheveled hair was decidedly out of sorts and her left eye swollen shut, she appeared otherwise unharmed, miraculous though it was. _Thank the stars_! Losing his best warrior was a markedly significant loss, granted, but a tolerable cost if it meant preserving her life.

"'M fine," she grinned, even as his hand cupped her face for longer than was necessary. "'Sides, you shoulda seen the state I left _him_ in."

"You didn't dispatch of him?" he questioned, somewhat perplexed.

"What'd be the point of that? After all, the terms were specific. The agreement was that if I _bested_ him the man goes free. I said nothing about killing him."

He dropped his hands, scoffing in amazement rather than anger at the surreptitious caveat- at how she'd gone and pulled another one on him. Yet another unexpected feat... Had she any limits? He shook his head in wonder, finding himself absurdly content just to have her alive. "Come," he ordered, holding out his hand, possessively. "Let's see to your injuries."

* * *

Back in the solitude of the console room, her mere presence was comically assuaging to his anxious mood, even while tending to the unpleasant task of treating her wounds. Unpleasant in its reminder of her mortality. Pleasant in allowing him close, uninterrupted physical contact. He could have easily assigned such a task to one of the on-board physicians, but he was in a particularly selfish mood. Anything to allow him time with his coveted flower... With a delicate touch, he finished applying his screwdriver to the inflamed, bruised skin around her eye.

"Why didn't you come?" she prodded quietly as his thumb gently traced the outline of her socket. "According to Ayaliah, you never miss a match."

Shifting uncomfortably, he glanced down at his screwdriver to alter the settings. "I had business to attend."

"You were worried," she stated rather than asked. His eyes shot up in time to see the edge of her mouth tip upward in a knowing smile. "Bit _human-y_ of you, don't you think?"

Feeling a bit indignant, he pocketed his laser. "I don't like my _things_ getting broken, Rose. Certainly not a rarity like you. And how you ever managed to survive, I'll never know."

"_Right..._" she drawled, a sprite-like glint in her battered eye as she leaned back against the console.

"Never do anything like that again, Rose," he scolded with a point. "Tempting fate a second time is a fool's errand. You're not to set foot near that blasted area or the sparring area. No caveats, no contorting semantics." He turned to fiddle with the controls. "And I hope all of this madness was worth it," he muttered under his breath, switching a few notches.

Having heard his little after remark, Rose slunk to her feet. "Well, _that _remains to be seen."

Pausing, he regarded her for a moment- standing there with her arms crossed while watching him expectantly. She looked rather worse for wear in her ripped padded armor, having risked absolutely everything for that servant. Never would he have agreed to her terms if he thought for one second she'd succeed. No slave had ever been freed. Now, it seemed, he could either honor the agreement, or demean his own authority by going back on his word. Either way, it was a monumental blow to his reputation. With a resigned sigh, he jabbed at the communication relay.

"My Lord?" Sikah's voice rang into through the console.

"Fetch the artisan." Without looking up, he punched in new coordinates, bitter memories of the whole ordeal souring his tongue.

A moment later the old artisan all but tripped into the room, eyes wild and fearful, bowing low to the floor. "M-my, Lord Victor?"

Crossing his arms, he sneered upon the man hunched on the ground. "You owe your life to this woman. Now rise and hold out your arm." The man stumbled onto his feet, Rose rushing to his side to help him up. Tentatively, the man extended a trembling arm, eyes clamped shut as if anticipating death at any moment. Rose patted the servant's arm supportively while shooting him a weary glare. With a wave of his laser screwdriver, the metal bracelet sprung open as he snatched it from the air with his free hand. Straightening his black velvet jacket, he pocketed them both. "Now begone before I change my mind." With a jerk of his head, he gestured toward the main door, one no servant had crossed in centuries.

Finally, the man dared to look up, eyes spilling over with tears of joy. Turning, he nearly fell into Rose's arms in what was either an embrace, or her simply trying to keep him afoot. "Bless you, my dear! May the fates grant your every wish!" He pecked both her cheeks before squeezing her in another hug, sobbing into her hair.

In that moment, the smile on Rose's face was bigger than he'd ever seen it, her own eyes misting in what was altogether a distressingly domestic scene, and so very... _foreign _to one such as himself. Then, she took the man's wrinkled hand, steadying him as they walked toward the exit side by side. With a grand push of the door, the sun shone brightly upon a bustling, dusty market. Clapping for joy, the artisan crossed the threshold without looking back.

"Take care!" she called out before his form disappeared into the streets of his home world.

Her watery smile didn't diminish as she turned her attention to him- inordinately silent. Truth be told, it was a bit unnerving, what with her looking at him like he'd just granted her _own _freedom. But then she had swept him up in a hug as well, catching him around the middle unexpectedly. Two soft lips graced his cheek affectionately, and before he could react, she was out the double doors, leaving him utterly bewildered and unsure whether to feel pleased or outraged. But that, in a nutshell, was quintessential Rose Tyler. And at the end of a very long day, he settled on simply being content to have her alive.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The next morning brought with it an uncharacteristic sense of urgency as he fidgeted around the console, impatiently waiting for the latest batch of reactions to synthesize. Rose was late, _again_. How long did it take for a human to sleep anyhow? Honestly, she was lucky he'd allowed her so much recuperation time after the little stunt she pulled. New ground rules and clear boundaries were to be laid down at the soonest opportune moment. Especially with a vengeful Chula warrior on the prowl. Leave it to Miss Tyler to narrowly avoid death only to fall to some petty vendetta in some darkened corridor of his ship. Her unfortunate proclivity for tossing insults and antagonizing lethal warriors was likely to get her killed, and he'd never forgive her for that. The best course of action was to set her straight before she went and offed herself in some other careless endeavor.

Even as he worked, his feet could barely stand still, checking connections and whirling about with an unusual foot-tapping restlessness. Residual unease left over from the night before, no doubt. He slapped a hand at the controls of the monitor only to see his little human hidden under a pile of covers, the rhythmic rise and fall of the bedspread the only movement visible on the screen. _She'd slept enough_, he stolidly decided as he swept from the room.

"Sikah," he barked to the servant standing outside the door. "Tell Ayaliah to wake Rose. Have her meet me for breakfast on the veranda without delay. We've much to discuss." Without waiting for his servant's reply, he was tearing down toward the lower court yards, eager for a change of scenery.

The eating area was tucked away on one of the lower decks- certainly not his usual choice for dining. It was nothing but a solitary, cast-metal, painted table and two ornate chairs, sitting bright and white under the sunlight. A vase of fragrant cut flowers from several exotic planets had been delicately arranged in the center in an altogether enchanting vignette, but he was more interested in its location than its picturesque charm. He had no intention of repeating the inauspicious fiasco from the other day. This was to be a private discussion, away from prying eyes and intrusive ears.

He couldn't seem to sit, instead finding himself pacing impatiently, arms clasped behind his back as he awaited her arrival. It took but a moment for a tray of food to find its way to the table, a timid kitchen maid bowing lowly before excusing herself with all the typical demure he had come to expect from all his servants- that he _demanded_ of them. The sight only served to remind him of the unpleasant task ahead.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps drew his attention, and he whipped around to see a bare-foot Rose strolling forward in a plain blue gown, sans makeup, and looking rather groggy. "There you are!" he called out, breathing a sigh of relief to have her in his sight again.

"What was _so_ important it couldn't wait?" she asked in a wide yawn. "Waking me up and not even giving me a chance to get ready... Hope you don't mind me _au naturel_."

"You look entirely presentable," he declared, waving to an open chair. In fact, he could hardly tell she had been in a fight, her usual pink coloring restored. Much preferred to the bruised and battered look she sported the night before. And despite the simplicity of her appearance, she was altogether a sufficing sight for longing eyes. "Now sit. The morning awaits."

"_Pfft_," she scoffed, collapsing into a chair. "Come off it! 'Morning' is a relative term on a ship like this and you ruddy well know it, you impatient Time Lord."

He cut her a sidelong glare as he sat across from her, but she merely grinned impishly, her tongue poking between her teeth. That's all it took for him to involuntarily cracked a lop-sided smile.

"Just couldn't wait through the night to see me again, I see," she nodded smugly as she sipped at a warm beverage.

"Well that's just..." he began, flustered. "That's not..."

She laughed freely. "Oh, would you look at that? King of the castle, turnin' all red..."

"Don't," he warned with a point, feeling the heat at his cheeks. Embarrassment was not a feeling he was accustomed to, and not one he particularly fancied. _Particularly_ when he had nothing to be ashamed of. He could summon her whenever he very well pleased. Such an occurrence was hardly inferential.

But fanned by that ever-present enthusiasm, she couldn't be contained as she leaned in excitedly and poked him in the chest. "You know what I think? _I_ think under that stern exterior, you're nothing but a big old softie."

"_Please_," he dismissed with a puff of air, brushing her hand away.

"No, _really_! What you did last night, letting that man go, that was really big of you. And you were so worried about me. It was kinda sweet."

"_Sweet_?" he repeated, his mouth hanging open in alarm. How quaint. How disturbingly... off-base. "Rose, you've got it all wrong..."

"Oh, I do, do I?"

"_Entirely!_ Frankly, your assertions are dizzyingly miscalculated." Bristling uncomfortably, he he tipped his chalice to drink. "Don't know how half of those mad ideas end up in that head of yours," he muttered into his cup.

She crossed her arms, her mouth twisting to the side with unspoken insults. _Likely_ of the 'Time Lord ego' variety. "Fine then," she snapped spryly. "Let's hear _your_ version of it."

He squirmed within the stiff confines of his gilded chair, lowering his beverage. "No," he huffed after a moment. "I didn't bring you here to discuss such nonsense."

"Yep," she stated with a pop of the 'p'. "That cinches it. _Great. Big. Softie._ Too afraid to admit that he's not an emotionless robot after all."

_By the gods_, she knew how to get under his skin! This creature had single-handedly brought him to his wit's end, what with her loose tongue which knew no respect for authority, much less any semblance of formality or propriety. It was just such tenancies that had compelled him to summon her in the first place. But even as he struggled to latch onto that irritation and force it to grow into anger, her mere presence dissipated it like the blazing sun upon the lingering steam above his cup. He sighed.

Was it lunacy to attempt to subdue her? More to the point- did he truly wish it? Rose Tyler was so intriguing _because_ of her uninhibited nature. And he reveled in her company because... well because she made him laugh, irksome though she was at times.

Certainly- he _could_ crush her spirit and demand her absolute utmost respect, but at what cost? Was it worth going back to his life of uncontested monotony? That solitary, pseudo-existence of cautious detachment bereft of any interest? As her gaze found his, his resolve waned. There was a spark in those warm, brown orbs of hers, a spark which he wasn't ready to extinguish. _Not yet_...

"Well, go on then," she prompted with a nod, setting her drink down to fold her arms. "Whatcha wake me up for then?"

"I..." But his words fizzled. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat, deciding instead to address his other concerns. "First off, you're to steer clear of Chan Coi 'Thet indefinitely. To his species, there could be no lower form of dishonor than being bested by a primitive female Earthling." At his words, she rolled her eyes.

"This isn't a game, Rose," he pressed. "The Chula are notoriously prone to usurpation, and far more likely to die in the quest for honor than live in disgrace. It is not beyond him to attack you against my wishes. And I _don't _want that to happen."

"That it, then?" she pressed, unmistakable annoyance laced in her voice as she picked up a spoon and looked on her bowl.

"Not entirely, no," he added as he leaned in to test his own soup- murky and poignant. "The sparring rules have changed."

"_Why_?" she queried, brow furrowed. A tentative pink tongue poked at the brown liquid on her spoon, but her face then scrunched in obvious dislike.

"Well, I can't have servants fighting for each other's freedom, now can I?" Surely she could see the inherent flaw with such a loophole. The place would be chaos.

"_Why not_? They just want to go home and see their families and loved ones again."

"But I've given them absolutely everything they could ever want or need," he countered, resting his arm on the table. "The best medical care, the best clothes, food, and entertainment. The best technology and education... They want for nothing. They'd never have such luxuries in their respective times."

"You seriously think they'd rather have all that then their loved ones? _Seriously_?!" A spoon clattered into her bowl. Elbows on the table, she pressed her fingertips together in thought. Then after a moment, she leaned forward. "Have you... ever been around someone who makes your heart race and your palms sweaty? Someone you find yourself thinking about all the time? Someone who just makes you feel... _lighter_ just being around them? And you find that that's all you want, is just to be in that person's company?"

He froze in mid-sip, blinking. Try as he may not to draw the parallels, he couldn't deny they were there. Without warning, his stomach pitched, feeling a tad off. Perhaps it was the food. Yes, _must be_. Lowering his utensil, he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin.

"And then imagine," she continued. "Imagine that person you care for is suddenly separated from you. And you'll never see them again. The _pain_..." It was only obvious that she was referring to a certain _other_ Time Lord in a certain _other_ universe, but her astute words rang true nonetheless.

Potent memories of the night before flooded back- of grief and bereaved anguish, two more sensations with which he was not properly acquainted. Suddenly he could see it where he couldn't before- their puzzling reluctance to serve aboard his palace. How many of his _own_ treasures and grand halls would he relinquish to keep his prized possession by his side? His eyes dipped in an altogether frightful awareness. The real question was: was there anything he _wouldn't _give up?

"Have you ever been in love, Victor?"

His eyes shot up at the rare mention of his name to find her innocently twirling a lock of golden hair. Under the scrutiny of her steady, inquisitive gaze, he swallowed as he lowered his cup. "No."

Exhaling, she looked off once more, and he felt relieved that she'd finally dropped the matter. But then a brief glance at her plate alerted him to he fact that she had barely touched her food. "Something the matter with the soup?"

With that, she rolled her eyes, that familiar 'Rose Tyler' smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. "Calling it soup implies the stuff is edible."

And once again he was laughing, the airy ring of it sounding less and less foreign with each of her pithy quips. "Well, it _is_ an acquired taste," he admitted with a smile of his own.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked abruptly, resting her face in her palm as she chewed on the edge of her pinky nail.

"_Hm_?" he questioned absently, finding himself inexplicably leaning closer.

"Do you ever think about just getting out there and seeing the stars, you know, just for fun? No conquering, no shenanigans... just quietly walk among everyday people, get a bite to eat kind of thing?"

At her unexpected inquiry, he found himself simply staring back at her, blankly.

"_Seriously_?" she balked in disbelief, lowering her hand. "I mean, you've got a bleepin' time machine and you've never just gone sight-seeing?"

"Why ever would I need to?" he answered with a shrug. "I've got everything I could possibly want right here."

"For _fun!_" she cried. _"_Seriously, _never_? Blimey." Once again, she raised her spoon to try the soup before dropping it back to the bowl. She then shoved it forward as it scraped along the table, obviously considering it a lost cause. "You don't know what you're missing. You haven't _lived_ until you've had chips from a 20th century London street vendor. Wrapped in newspaper, all greasy. Totally bad for you and yet_ so_ good. Or you know what? Raxicoriofallipatorious has decent chips too. Only they call them crisps. Not half bad considering the natives are a bit... well, _peculiar_. Ever been?"

Taking a sip of his drink, he shook his head.

"They've got an _excellent _flavor. 'Cept, no dipping vinegar, what with them being calcium based life-forms and all." Then her eyes drifted. "On a side note, 's not pretty when pickles and the natives mix."

He choked on a laugh, lowering his cup. "No, I gather it wouldn't be." For a moment, he considered her, watching as her lips pursed in boredom, her breakfast forgotten. Admittedly, he wasn't too keen on finishing his own bowl, despite it being expertly executed in the traditions of the chefs. "Alright then. I could do with a bit of sightseeing," he declared, tossing his napkin onto the table. "Let's go."

Nothing could prepare him for the look of surprise that enveloped her expression, eyes lighting up in childlike hopefulness. "What? _Really_?!"

"Why not?" he spoke with a grin. "I've got time to kill while the compounds cook. And I'd be interested in seeing how these... _chips_ hold up to your incredible fanfare." _And_ he quite liked the idea of having her by his side and off the ship until Chan Coi 'Thet cooled off.

"Oh, you won't be disappointed!" With that, she sprung up, pulling him up by the hand, tugging him toward the grand stone stairs in a move that was fast becoming routine. He couldn't say that he minded. "Hold on..." Abruptly, she twirled around. "Can I change? I mean, I won't exactly fit in like this." Dropping his hand, she gestured toward her blue night gown.

He frowned, eyes shamelessly peering down the chasm between her bosom. _Pity_. "Alright then," he conceded. "I'll have Ayaliah return your old... c_lothes_."

With a toothy grin, she rolled her eyes at his implied derision and held out her arm expectantly, polished silver glinting at her wrist._ Ah_. The tracking bracelet. "Can't leave the ship without being vaporized, right?" she remarked, bobbing on the tips of her toes.

A heavy dose of reluctance wedged itself into his chest, releasing a barrage of second thoughts. What if she tried to escape?

_Would she dare_?

"Oh come off it!" she chided, somehow reading his line of thought yet again as her hand found her hip. "I'm _not_ gonna leave you! On my honor." Her other hand crossed over her chest, her head nodding resolutely.

Somehow, he knew she was good for it. In fact, she was the first person he'd ever trusted. And likely the only person he would _ever_ trust in all his long life. With a sigh, he dug out his laser from his silk-lined pocket, running the red light along the engraved band. It clicked open without protest, falling into his hand.

"_And._.." she added with a tone of voice that was teetering on presumptuousness, "You could stand to put on a perception filter. If you wanna be incognito you can't very well go about in a floating fortress, now can you?"

"Well," he began as he scratched at the back of his neck, taking a look around. "What do you suggest?"

She was all teeth and tongue as her face broke out in a full on grin. Without so much as an answer, she was hurriedly climbing up the stairs. And as he followed her eager form with a spring in his own step, the cool metal cuff in his pocket lay all but forgotten.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter was quite lengthy. It was cut in half for that purpose. And just so we are clear- my inspirations for this fic were "Current" by Maiden of the Moon, and "The Wind by Night" by Tripwire Alarm. If you don't see another story listed here, that's because I haven't read it, or I was not influenced by it, thus any other correlations are coincidental. If you haven't read the other two stories, do it! They are amazing!**

**Chapter 9**

Odd that she insisted on a phone box. _It's London_, she'd said. _It'll fit right in_. Never mind his lengthy explanation that perception filters needed no input to determine the best disguise for the area, relying on tried-and-true algorithms that were perfectly adequate. She had none of it, stubbornly towing him out the door with tangible excitement. His shoes met sidewalk, damp from a recent drizzle as they stepped into her _almost, _world. The dank smell of wet pavement and pollutants filled his olfactory sensory glands as puddles splashed at their ankles with each passing car.

Rose inhaled the cool air beside him. "Good old London Town. How I've _missed _you!" She spun on the spot, beaming at something just over his shoulder.

Following her line of sight, he turned to discover she'd been looking at the TARDIS. _Ah. That's right. Blue box_, he recalled. No wonder she was insistent on this particular design. He watched as she stepped forward, raking a hand down the grainy wood with reverence. After a moment, he cleared his throat. "Will you be needing some time alone then?" he taunted.

Her mirthful giggle filled the air as she turned. "Hey! _That's my line_!" Then without prompting, she looped her arm around his. Something inside him breathed a silent sigh of relief. The fact that she hadn't gone sprinting off at the first available opportunity helped to ease his lingering doubt as to her motives.

It was a peculiar sight- watching various people going about their days, walking past him as if he were just another ordinary bloke on just another cloudy day. No running, screaming, or fear. Just... living. A whirl of sensory input enveloped him, the sounds of mundane conversations and crying babies, the sight of red buses and black ravens sailing along the ash-colored sky. "So this is when and where you're from?" he wondered aloud, watching the quotidian bustle with genuine interest. He was no stranger to Earth of course, having visited during several key periods of time. Inevitably he returned to find them rebuilt. Resilient, humans.

"Not exactly _when_," she admitted. "Off by fifty years or so. But if you want the best chips, you've gotta go back a few decades. Before they stopped wrapping them in newspaper. I dunno. Just something about it gives it that certain _taste._.. There, that'll do!" She exclaimed, pointing down the street. Before he knew it, he was being gently guided forward, bemused by her avidity for deep-fried cuisine.

It was a quaint little vendor- nothing but a bulky white wooden box and steaming metal trays with naught but a rickety canopy to keep out the rain. A gruff-looking portly man with a stained shirt nodded curtly. "Wot can I get the 'appy couple today?" he asked in Cockney brogue.

He regarded the man and his questionable sanitary practices with a healthy dose of wariness, but Rose being Rose merely grinned politely and ordered without hesitation. Ever the risk taker, her. Fortunately, whatever currency she had given him he appeared to accept without question.

"You Time Lords are such cheap dates," she teased. "Always making the girl pay."

Soon she handed him a bundle of chips wrapped in that _oh-so-important_ paper, the appetizing smell of salt and oil mingled with ink wafting just under his nose. She beckoned toward the walkway lining the river, and he meandering alongside her, food in hand.

"Oh, these are gorgeous!" she hummed as she chewed, eyes closing in pleasure.

Opening his own package, he took a tentative bite. _Salty_. And surprisingly satisfying given his current state of hunger. In fact, they were marvelous! Odd that such an unrefined meal could be so gratifying.

"So?" she asked. "How does it compare?"

"Not bad," he acknowledged, grabbing a few and shoving them in his mouth with enthusiasm.

"Better than that god-awful rubbish you tried to serve me this morning," she contended, bumping into his shoulder playfully.

He feigned offense. "I'll have you know, that soup is considered the height of gourmet dining on Tannus." At her incredulous smirk, he cracked a sly smile. "_Oh alright. _Truth be told, I never cared for it either," he confessed, bumping back.

And as they both laughed, something about it all had him pondering on things that he never thought to ponder before. Like how he'd never before felt so... _relaxed_. No devious enemies lie in wait, no prospective mutiny near-at-hand. The need to keep up formalities and appearances had all but expired. And whether prudent or not, his ever-vigilant stance was eased into one of contented placidity- yet another novel experience at the side of his unexpected girl.

Before long, they happened across a nondescript stone bench overlooking the water. Rose plopped herself down. Following her lead, he scooted beside her. Several boats drifted lazily along the river as a brisk breeze whipped past, carrying with it the scent of approaching rain and Winter's lingering hold. Despite the cold, Rose looked unfazed, likely due to the return of that confounded navy blue jacket of hers.

"So enlighten me," he began in between bites. "What's with the leather get-up anyhow?"

"What, you don't like my jacket?" she asked innocently, holding out her dark sleeve.

He grinned darkly. "Oh, I much prefer you in silk, I think." _Or nothing, _he added silently.

She rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know, that leather is _very_ fashionable."

He snickered. "Maybe on _your_ planet, which to be honest, is merely one in a sea without number. You _humans_ and your peculiar little fads..."

"I'll have you know, mister _Time Lord_, that your parallel version wore leather in his last incarnation. A leather _jacket_, no less."

"_No..._" he breathed in amused disbelief.

"Did too!" she teased, slapping his arm with the back of her hand.

"Lies, I tell you! _All lies_," he laughed with an ardent shake of his head. "A Time Lord in leather?! I've seen a lot in my day, but that... now _that_ is just too much..."

"It's true!" she giggled delightedly. "He really did! And it was downright sexy."

He looked down to see that her hand had found his, her thumb absently grazing the back of his knuckles in a rather ambiguous gesture. And when he glanced back up, he found they were nearly nose to nose, her warm eyes so alight, _so alive_... Without warning, his chest thudded painfully.

Then she lifted her hand to brush the salt from his fingers, the warmth where her skin had touched already starting to cool, its presence as fleeting as the moment itself. "You know where we outta go next?" she casually asked. "To get a milkshake. You can get the most delicious banana milkshakes you've _ever_ tasted from this banana planet. What's it called?" A finger curled over her mouth in thought. "Can't remember... _Vi- Villa_..."

But even as she spoke, an unsettling realization punctured his mood. "_Villengard_?" he offered.

"That's the one!" she exclaimed, standing to toss a clump of crumbled paper into a bin. "Good. Thought for a mo' it didn't exist here. That'd be a shame. Such a nice place. Well, what do you say?"

"_Uh_..." He shrank, declining to mention the minute little detail of having conquered said planet in the 51st century at the height of its banana production, and no doubt the period to which she referred. Such a history made returning somewhat problematic. But her eyes were so very hopeful, so very expectant, and he suddenly discovered he didn't wish to disappoint her. Perhaps they _could_ manage a quick visit, if he were_ exceedingly_ careful...

"Well, come on then. Up you go," she prompted, shooing him from his seat. "_Shift!_"

Somehow they were headed back toward the TARDIS, her insistently leading the way with renewed zeal. And as he stumbled after her, he marveled at how such an impetuous, wild thing so easily bent the Lord of Time to her will.

* * *

They landed right in the middle of the sprawling capitol city, outlandish blue box and all (because reasoning with Rose Tyler was fruitless). The place was just as he remembered it, down to the teal-shaded sky and impressive tropical banana groves that stretched for miles just beyond the city gate. The sun was hot and the air balmy, an altogether different scene than that of a sopping London on a cool February's morning. But his thoughts were interrupted as he felt the warmth of a hand wrapping nimbly around his own.

Rose merely grinned his way as if they had done this a thousand times, and against her genial smile, the surroundings all but dissolved. Instead, he found himself watching her breathlessly as she gently tugged him along, a hand perched along her brow to block the sun from her eyes as she scoured the skyline.

"_If_ we're lucky," she leaned in to speak, "there ought to be a shop along the main street." But her words were lost on him as her golden hair grazed his shoulder. Her nearness fast elevated his heart-rate, his system spiking with a cocktail of chemicals, and it was all he could do to nod dumbly.

"That's odd," she commented, stopping abruptly. "Why's everyone all in a tizzy?"

Her words yanked him back to reality as he surveyed the unfolding scene. It was then he heard the screaming and utter desperateness as citizens raced to-and-fro, grabbing children and supplies. Ships zoomed overhead with urgency as if to escape from some unseen danger. Following the exhaust trials, he spotted pillars of thick black smoke in the distance billowing from the remains of the half-standing capitol building. A _hauntingly_ familiar sight...

"_No_," he uttered, dropping her hand and lunging forward. "No, no, no, no, _no!_"

"What?" Rose inquired anxiously. "What's going on?"

"What's the date?" he muttered aloud, sprinting down the street to stop in front of a holographic window. Among several blinking warning messages, the date flashed across the screen- his worst fears confirmed. He yanked at his hair, eyes darting wildly about. "But I set the coordinates to come _before _today! One week to be exact. This can't be right..."

Rose stepped into his line of sight, face grave. "Victor, _tell me what's happening_."

"I- I sort of... conquered this planet two regenerations ago, toppled the government, and set a timed neutrino detonation at the heart of the capitol which _if _my calculations and memories are correct, and they always are, ought to be due to go off in, oh I don't know... half an hour?"

"You what?!" she balked, face drawn up in shock. Then she whipped her head up to look at the smoldering building up on the hill. "_Right_," she spoke in a tight voice before turning to him, lips pressed together in obvious disapproval. "Well, now you can make it right."

He tilted his head. "Pardon?"

She shifted her weight to one side, crossing her arms expectantly. "Well, did you want a ruddy milkshake or not? _Hm? _Can't have one if everyone's running for their lives, now can you?"

He blinked. "But, if we just..."

"Oh, come off it! It won't take long, will it? Not for the likes of you, Mister _Time Lord_ _Victorious_. Sort it out and we'll be on our way."

"_Right,_" he managed awkwardly, tugging at his ear whilst clearing his throat. To decline her request would be to appear less than the task, and that he couldn't do. "Well..." His own gaze drifted up to the capitol with a resigned sigh. "We'll need a ride up there. And I'll need to disable the bomb..."


	10. Chapter 10

**Life has hit particularly hard this week. I might not be getting up the chapters weekly any longer, but rest assured, I will get them up as soon as I can. Thanks for all the lovely reviews so far! I do hope you like the direction it has taken. Now haz some fluffy fluff.**

**Chapter 11**

It was all wind, chaos, and adrenaline as they struggled at the controls of a commandeered, flying banana freighter. While he'd been suitably impressed by Rose's hot-wiring skills, he found her piloting prowess to be sorely lacking as the beastly hauler listed dangerously to the right, the capitol growing larger and larger in their sights. At the last second, he judiciously seized the wheel from her hand to level out, and they practically crash landed in a puff of dust and debris. For a weighty moment, there was nothing but silence and blinding smoke as he pried his rigid hands from the wheel, choking on the air.

He heard Rose before he saw her, that familiar laugh of hers, so hearty and full- such a _blessed_ sound. When the cloud finally cleared, he spotted her lying sprawled upon her back, taken with the exhilaration of it all. "Now_ that's_ what I call a wild ride!" she exclaimed, dusting off her shirt.

Jumping spryly next to her, he helped her to her feet, claiming her hand in his own. "No time for frivolity, madam. Detonation is in less than five minutes!"

Her grin only widened, tongue swept to the side. "Then let's see that winning spirit of yours, Time Lord. _Allons-y_!"

Flashing a dazzling smile of his own, they were off, hand in hand. They tore down the littered hallway, his laser at the ready, scanning for the bomb in relation to their position. According to the readings, the bomb had been left three floors up. If they were to make it in time, they had better make haste.

"_In here_!" he shouted as he yanked her into a stairwell. They clambered up the spiraling steps, hands tightly wound together.

It was utterly mad of course, _all of it_. But whilst battling the clock, a manic glee saturated the air- that familiar high usually present when mired deep in the conflict, when the stakes could be no higher. And like Rose said, what could be more thrilling than besting himself? The greatest opponent he would _ever _know?

Just then, they sailed into the room in question, or rather, what _remained_ of the room. Half the building had been blasted away, twisted beams of metal sticking up precariously around the pile on which the neutrino bomb had haphazardly landed. Dropping her hand, he threw himself at the heap, clawing his way up the chunks of dirt, wall, and glass to reach the thing as it sat smugly atop the mound. The bomb itself was no bigger than his palm, spherical and featureless, with nothing but an ominous, rhythmic beeping to suggest it was anything sinister. Naturally it was impossible to disarm, unless of course one carried a laser device which _happened_ to have the deactivation frequency. Seconds to spare, he raked the screwdriver over the silver metal ball. It clicked in response, powering down with a mechanical sigh. Breathing a sigh of his own, he slid against the pile in relief.

"You did it!" Rose cried joyously, clapping her hands.

"I reckon we did," he mused in disbelief, but just then, the building rumbled treacherously. "Ah, time to be getting down I think."

He had just pocketed the ball when the pile beneath him shifted and he toppled headlong into the rubble, the world spinning in a blur of light and sound. When it finally ceased, he found himself dangling precariously from a beam as the ground underneath had given way. He gasped in both surprise and pain as the sharp metal cut into his tightly clenched fingers, stinging as blood dripped down his sleeve. With his other hand, he tucked his laser into his teeth, grabbing hold of his lifeline with both hands. The beam protested with a groan, twisting downward threateningly. It didn't take a genius to determine that the girder had little structural integrity left. By his calculations, he had minutes at best before it failed him. He chanced a glance down to find his feet swaying above an astonishingly imposing drop. Death was imminent. _Unless_...

His eyes drifted upward to spot the top of Rose's blonde hair as she struggled to peer through a pile of rubble, but the roof had caved in between them, blocking her off. "I can't get to you!" her muffled voice cried. "Wait there. I'll find a way!"

Again the floor buckled, the metal beam all but snapping with his weight. He held his breath, tightening his grip with a white-knuckled desperateness, doing his best to ignore the objections of his throbbing hands. Never before had he felt so vulnerable, so entirely reliant on another for salvation. And as the sounds of her footfall faded, he was left holding onto to nothing but assailable hope that she would honor her word.

After a few agonizingly long minutes his fingers had gone numb, and it was then that he espied movement along the stairwell windows as a figure scurried down the steps.Then the awful truth dealt him a gut-wrenching blow: _Rose was leaving him_! The devastating betrayal seized his very breath, leaving him properly winded.

_Stupid, foolish, daft old Time Lord!_ How did he ever end up there in the first place?! If he hadn't ostensibly allowed that conniving wench to lead him there just to leave him stranded...

Then a myriad of dark thoughts crossed his mind, vindictive and hot as the torrid air. If death had come to claim him regardless, there were several devious methods he could employ to exact his rightful revenge. A well-aimed laser to the structure under the stair well, and they'd fall together. A quick toss of that cuff into the building, and she'd be vaporized before she even knew what had happened. He'd fall, regenerate, and move on. And there was always the bomb itself... He could reactivate the device on the way down and they'd all light up, killing himself off for good, as well as a quarter of the planet's population. After such a grievous error, perhaps it was a fitting punishment for his monumental lapse in judgment.

Again the beam lurched, dropping his entire frame nearly a foot and his eyes clenched shut. Tentatively, he pried open a lid only to cringe as the metal peeled away before his very eyes.

And as he held on for what were undoubtedly his last few seconds, hands trembling and hearts pounding, no conventional replay of his life's accomplishments flashed before his eyes, nor did he revel in victory or achievement. Instead, _her_ face appeared, contrasting so vibrantly against the dreary London skyline- no, against the entirety of his insipid timeline_ itself_. And in a moment of startling clarity, he realized that whether this had been her carefully-laid plan all along or not was irrelevant. He lacked the willpower to harm her even now, and he very well knew it. If the end had come, let it come for him and not her. _Not his flower_... He bowed his head in humble resignation, defeated. Then, with a sickening snap, he was in free-fall.

Suddenly he knew only pain as his body collided abruptly with something hard, tinny, and entirely unforgiving as it knocked the laser screwdriver from his mouth and the air from his lungs. Sucking in a strained breath, he rolled to his knees with a groan to find his palms flush against metal grating crusted with dried mud. He'd been caught by some sort of floating ramp, powered by atom thrusters if the wheezing sound rumbling beneath him were any indication, likely used for docking banana freighters. Pulling himself to his wobbly feet, his makeshift magic carpet came to rest awkwardly on the shambles of the main floor. Before he could so much as register what had happened, two arms had flung around his neck in a tight embrace, blond hair whipping at his face.

"Oh God! I thought I had lost you!" Rose breathed into his ear.

"_Rose_," he uttered in awe, frozen with shock, noticing the remote clasped in her hand. "You... _you came back for me_."

She pulled away, clutching his shoulders. "'Course I did! I couldn't let anything happen to you!"

As he gaped at her in stupefied wonder, he was struck by the sheer ludicrousness of the situation, and how everything about it defied reason. _Reason_- that sole faithful companion that had served him inculpably for nearly a millennium. Reason safely guided him through hell, pulled him from the fathomless brink, beaten and bruised but victorious. Reason advantageously shielded him from fallible emotions like love or trust, allowed him to see them for the inferior biological responses they were. Reason was the indubitable foundation upon which he'd painstakingly built both his literal and philosophical empire.

But that same reason also told him this woman had left him for dead, never to return. Now, caught in an abject lie, reason steadfastly contended she'd only returned to selfishly procure a means to get back to her own universe, or at the very least, to avoid being stranded on some far-flung planet. But no such ulterior motive lurked in the shine of her brown eyes. Instead, he saw only a genuine concern for his well-being. She truly cared. _For him_. Like no one else before her. And as she brushed his dark fringe from his sweat-soaked brow, so tender in her touch, she slayed reason entirely, that impossible girl. With that final, silent death blow, all the established paradigms of his existence fell dead at their feet.

She snickered, no doubt amused by his curious expression. "Come on," she spoke with a pat to his arm. "Let's get you cleaned up and find that milkshake. You look like you could use it."

* * *

The sun had begun to set, throwing brilliant hues of violent orange and pink across the sky as they meandered through a gathering crowd. The sticky air had cooled slightly, riddled with the sounds of cheering and boisterous drums. If he were still inclined to listen to reason, he might have been dutifully offended. But just what had been won or lost was laughably ambiguous given the circumstances, and now that he had thrown out his rules, completely inconsequential. Instead, he allowed himself to enjoy the festivities with a sort of strange, giddy impulsiveness- that thrill only present during contumacious noncompliance.

Perhaps this was how it felt to be human- allowing his actions to be completely unpredictable, led by nothing but the whims of the moment, the _now_. It was just the sort of thing he'd always laughed at from perched high on his pedestal, driven by the very prejudices of a civilization he'd eradicated. And it was just the sort of thing_ she_ exuded without effort.

Rose was in her element of course, delighting in the make-shift confetti the citizens had re-purposed from shredded banana leaves. He found himself observing her actions with eager curiosity, as if the secrets of the universe were hidden in the hook of her cheek, drawn up in a sly one-sided smile, or her spontaneity as she reached unflinchingly into the gully of the grimy street to scoop at a pile. Suddenly, handfuls of the stuff littered down upon him like green rain, piling obnoxiously in his hair. She merely grinned at him challengingly, the little minx, and he was soon throwing handfuls _her _way in retaliation, sending her dashing for cover around the corner. Somehow roped into her tomfoolery, he gave chase like some juvenile, puerile schoolboy. Rounding the corner, he came to abrupt halt as a sea of people bustled about, parties spilling into the street from every edifice.

"Psst," a voice beckoned from his right. He turned, beaming at the sight. Rose stood at the entryway of a shop holding two tankards of what were unmistakably the legendary milkshakes they'd sought, piled high with excessive amounts of cream. "They're actually _giving_ 'em away," she exclaimed excitedly. "Can you believe it?" Without further fanfare, she handed him one and promptly chinked his glass with a loud clank. "Bottom's up!"

He gladly complied. The divine concoction was cool against his lips, perfect for a summer's night after such a grueling adventure, and _yet again_- surprisingly good for such an uncivilized beverage. He really ought to try common food more often. Lowering his glass, he chuckled at a mustached Rose Tyler, grinning widely at him like a fool.

"Yum," she hummed lowly. "_So_ much better than anywhere else in all the universe." Licking the excess from her lips, she leaned in to wipe at the edge of his mouth with a soft brush of her thumb in an action that sent his hearts stumbling.

Dear god, _he'd fallen for her! Him. _Lord of all time. _The Victor- _completely besotted by a human girl...

"Not bad, eh?" she prompted with a nudge, a hint of pink tongue peeking between her pearly teeth.

"Not bad at all," he whispered as he gazed upon her captivating smile, the drink in his hand all but forgotten.

"Totally worth saving the world for, wouldn't you say?"

Her words took on a new context, and what he had gained by the day's efforts suddenly became so much clearer. He smiled warmly in response. "I suppose you're right."


	11. Chapter 11

**Holy cow! Is it Wednesday already?! Where did the time go?! So we're pretty much caught up to how far I've written. I've edited this chapter since the last beta read, so if you find a typo, please note me and I'll see to fixing it. Thanks for all of your lovely reviews, really! I've had a scene or two come to fruition thanks to the input of my readers, so do continue! I'll try my best to keep them coming once a week, but I make no promises, especially since I may be writing an impromptu scene coming up.**

**Chapter 11**

As he looked at the nighttime view just outside his chamber, he thought it funny. In the course of his many lives, he had conquered all manner of binary systems and conglomerations, stared into the gaping jaws of the Nightmare Child, vanquished formidable _would-be_ emperors and petty cyber kings, and all but single-handedly quelled the Time War. He had gazed upon plasma storms a million parsecs wide, beheld bursts of star fire impossibly bright, and sailed across the rift of the Medusa Cascade itself. He had witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations as their passing epochs sparked bright and hot only to fade into embers. He had been many men with personalities and traits as varying as the faces he wore. And despite all he'd seen and done, all he'd been, nothing could have prepared him for _this_. This pseudo-state of both inexplicable bliss and paralyzing anxiety, this bizarre _unfamiliarity_- like falling without a parachute into the great unknown. The foreign predicament invited a completely new kind of danger, one which was all at once a bit thrilling, not half-frightening, and entirely _mad!_

It shattered every statute that ever existed of course, be it his own strict edicts or those instilled by the dusty socio-political prejudices of his expired species; all shouted in collective condemnation. Even the primitive customs of Earth frowned on such things, what with their denunciation of such laughable age disparity. To let himself feel anything at all, let alone for a creature whose lifespan would snuff out in the blink of an eye compared to his own, displayed a type of willful recklessness which bordered on outright mania.

For someone so very bent on impregnable defenses, he had somehow nonsensically failed to brace against her wiles, so caught up in the impelling mystery that he had unwittingly fallen prey. And worse: despite the obvious dyslogistic implications, the _litany_ of cumbrous consequences... _none of it mattered_. All of it proved immaterial next to that fact he was unequivocally and emphatically enamored with Rose Marion Tyler.

It was the sole indisputable truth in the universe remaining, the only thing he had left upon which to build. If the world of theorems, postulates, and proofs had dissolved, if the unyielding laws of reason and physics effortlessly broke at the whims of a human girl, then by default, _she_ was the only certitude left. She was no longer the unknown variable in the equation, but the constant, and his entire sphere had shifted to accommodate this fact. She was now his gravitational center- the anchoring celestial body around which he orbited.

And so he stood, restlessly hovering just outside his chamber as she readied herself for bed, all nerves and itching feet. After showering and restoring his cuts in the med bay, he was left with nothing else to do but wait. _Not_ one of his finer virtues, ironic nomenclature of his species aside. In an attempt to divert his mind from the state of his rather unsettled stomach, he fidgeted with his collar, his hair, his screwdriver... _anything_ within reasonable grasp. Even the ordinarily hypnotic starscape proved an insufficient distraction, lovely though it was.

He had parked alongside the ice moons of Arden, massive crystallized chunks of glass floating along glittering rings of dust. A romantic a place as any- at least, _he_ thought so. Perhaps not? Rose was so very fickle... Suddenly he found himself fretting as he paced along the grand windows of the hallway.

Just then, the faintest click sounded at the handle of the door, but for all its power over him, it may as well have been a thunderclap. Eyes wide, he whipped around to see the object of his affection striding forward. The sight of her in an enticing midnight-blue nightdress physically constricted his chest, forcing a shuddering exhale through his mouth.

Oh, such blessed euphoria! He'd be her Mars of only she'd be his Venus! He'd tear the moons from the very sky and hand them to her if she'd only ask! How could he _ever_ have denigrated such a feeling? That palpitant strumming of his galloping hearts... The way his very lungs chased after his breath... There was a science behind it of course, as neurochemical reactions and luteinizing hormones in the hypothalamus elicited a primitive biological response. But in that moment, he could not have recalled one whit of it if he'd tried. "You look _amazing_," he managed to verbalize, positively awestruck.

Even in the dwindling light, he spied a flicker of blush upon her cheek. "'S just a night gown," she murmured as she stopped a few feet away, averting her eyes from his intense gaze. _Odd_. Rose was hardly one for such bashfulness.

His eager eyes continued to wander along the smooth skin of her collarbone, pale and unearthly under the blue starlight, trailing downward to the shimmering fabric clinging to her chest. A flash of want struck at the sight, a consuming need that caught him off guard. He had known desire before, but this was something new, something which penetrated the very core of his being in places that had never before been breached. There was lust, yes, but also an ache for connection- physical, mental, _emotional_... This time, he would give her _so_ much more of himself, share his mind and his hearts willingly. And while nothing could be more frightening, neither could he imagine anything being more fulfilling. Once again, his mind played back their last encounter- the inward tension mounting as her magnetism pulled him forward. How he'd _ever_ managed not to touch her for five days in a row was nothing short of a miraculous quirk of happenstance, soon to be remedied.

"This what you wanted to show me?" she asked suddenly, the sound of her voice promptly tearing him from his thoughts.

He halted just alongside her, his mind racing to recall that he had in fact asked her to meet him here shortly after landing. "Uh, yes," he began as he tugged on the end of his ear. "I'd rather hoped to show you something that perhaps you'd never seen. Did you ever come here before in your universe?"

"No," she whispered, that familiar spark in her eye as she looked upon it with wonder. "'S really beautiful."

But next to her splendor, the view all but waned. His breathing quickened as he stepped forth to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Instead, he found himself inhaling its bewitching scent, its golden silkiness woven between his fingers arousing a host of pleasant memories. "_My precious Arkitytor..._" he whispered in his native tongue near the shell of her ear. Somewhat surprised, her face turned to him, etched with an inscrutable expression. Perhaps she required the words of her own language. With careful precision, he nudged her chin upwards, his breath skimming along her lips as he spoke. "Look at me the way you did that night, and I'll give you the universe." Then with deliberateness, his lips sought hers.

No sooner had their lips grazed than she withdrew from his grasp, stepping just beyond his reach. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, brows furrowed.

Struck by the rather brisk tone of her voice, he scoffed, dropping his hand. "Why it's only obvious."

"No, no I don't think it is. So why don't you _spell it out_ for me." There was an unmistakable warning in her voice, and he suddenly realized that the standoffish woman he had first met had returned. Along with all of that combustible contentiousness of hers, running on full power by the look of it.

The spell broke with the evaporating of her smile, and his eyes flashed with a warning of their own. "What do _you_ think?" Already, he could feel his instinctual predatory tendencies compelling him to once again close the distance between them.

Despite her unrelenting posture, those telling eyes of hers revealed that she knew _precisely_ what his intentions were. She visibly tensed as he neared, her jaw rigidly set. "I think I'm tired, and I'd like to go to bed now." With that, she gathered her skirt, and turned on her bare feet to leave.

"_I didn't say you could go_," he spoke in a hush. And though he hadn't raised his voice, its veiled meaning echoed in the hollow corridor nonetheless and stopped her dead in her tracks.

Even in the failing light, he could make out the heaving of her ashen shoulders. She spun on the spot, her fists balling at her sides. "Oh, is that right?!" she seethed.

"Yes indeed!" he declared before advancing to snatch her wrist firmly in his hand.

Her mouth dropped in shock, then her eyes flicked back up with a glower so intense it could have rivaled any of his own in any incarnation on any given day. "_Let me go_," she ordered through gritted teeth.

There was something driving him now, something which her anger only served to fuel. "_You_ forget your place," he warned.

But even as the crease between her dark brows deepened, her arm slackened in his grasp. "I thought we were _past_ this," she exhaled imploringly. And as her deep eyes softened, so did something inside him. Instinctively and incomprehensibly, he released her.

Massaging his eyes, he struggled to free his mind of the dark temperament which had so thoroughly taken hold even as he struggled to register her words. But her reasoning escaped him, as it ever did. He lowered his hand. "Rose, what _exactly_ did you think I kept you for?" Perhaps it once proved a pertinent question, but just whether her official title still had any true bearing on how he now viewed her only addled his wits further.

"I take it, it wasn't for my lovely sense of humor," she answered dryly. Her reply would have been funny if not for how serious she looked- mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes tight and guarded.

"_Yes_," he uttered. His answer surprised both of them, and he ran his palm down the side of his face in exasperation before jabbing the air. "I mean... _all _of it. Everything that makes you … _you_." It was hardly a coherent answer, and though perhaps his meaning was lost, he took a step forward to try again regardless- wishing to convey that things that changed. That_ he_ had changed. That he felt things inside that he'd never felt before. That he, being the articulate man he was, couldn't even _begin_ to properly describe. "I can't stop thinking about that night," he affirmed softly. Once more, his out-stretched fingers reached for her.

"Don't," she warned with a glare.

"_Why not?!" _he asked as his own fingers curled into a tense ball, irritated. "Why then and not now?"

"I had my reasons," she said simply, chin in the air. "I did what needed doing."

But extinguishing the fires which burned so hotly inside him was not a thing so easily accomplished, especially for someone so used to instant gratification. He leaned in, eyes lidded and voice pleading. "Then do it again," he breathed against her hair. He could practically taste her skin, feel the heat of it rising off her like the burning sun she was.

"_No_," she spat, shifting from beside him to view him head on. "If you do this, it won't be the same. _Never again_. Because what I gave you, I gave freely. It can't be taken. Love can't be forced." And it pained him to hear her say the word love in such a manner, as if it stung her tongue nearly as much as it stung his hearts- _far_ more than it should. "I could never love anyone who could do that to another person."

Her usually warm eyes were ice. With that, she turned heel and marched into the chamber, slamming the door to leave him slack-jawed and head spinning.

* * *

As he endlessly patrolled the long empty halls of his ship in the early morning hours, his mind whizzed with a thousand thoughts. A myriad of emotions boiled to the surface: confusion at the forefront, followed by the potent sting of rejection. In frustration, he pivoted with a screech of his black polished shoes to pace toward the opposite direction.

He was totally hopeless and he knew it. For nearly a thousand years he'd guarded his empire with undeviating vigilance, and a twenty-something shop girl from South London effortlessly upended it in a matter of _days_. How laughable, that the Time Lord Victorious, supreme conqueror of the universe, would have the gall to fall in love. With a _human_, no less. And what had it brought him? _Hm?_ Nothing but torment. Infuriating, _ceaseless_ torment! He yanked at his frazzled hair yet again as he continued his repetitive march down the same stretch of hall he'd just traversed.

Oh, she had been clever, hadn't she? Weaseling her way in with that tongue-swept smile of hers, those witty jokes and double-meaning handholds, taunting him with the memory of unmatched rapturous passion... She had him wrapped around her little finger. In fact, when he stopped to think about it, the depth to which she controlled him was astounding: tricking him into freeing servants, getting him to whisk her away to whatever destination she pleased, sleeping in _his_ bed while ungraciously denying him the same right, strutting about as if she owned the infernal place! And now that she practically had him at her beck and call, she went and rebuffed his affections, leaving him both pained and nonplussed. Was this her master plan? To get him to trust her? To get him to _love_ her? Had he been unwittingly caught in some grand manipulative scheme?

Because mad as it was, he _did_ love her. And he'd rather _hoped... _But then she...

Once more, her biting words reverberated in his ears, shaking him to his very bones: _'I could never love anyone who could do that to another person.' _

That settled the matter, then. Never would he be loved. If not by her, then no one. _Never again_, she had said. Never again would she look at him that way, kiss him like that, hold him like he meant something to _someone _out there in the whole-wide miserable cosmos, like he meant something to _her_.

_'You're just lonely. 'Cos you haven't got a friend in the universe.'_

Long fingers raked down the front of his face as her words once more took hold. He'd spent centuries trying to bury those old wounds, wounds which scarred deep into his psyche by that bastardized existence none would dare call childhood. Perhaps naively, he'd believed that if he could manage to forget them long enough, they'd be erased. But her words had stirred in him the nightmares of days long past, now coupled with fresh heartache. Fully exposed, the combination revealed in naked glory the staggering depth of his solitude, solitude which had driven him to commit unspeakable horrors.

And what was left for a man who suddenly found himself with everything and yet nothing? A man whose insides had been ripped out and insecurities laid bare, whose doctrines and creeds had been eviscerated by the only woman he'd ever managed to love?

He was no saint. Surely an iniquitous man such as himself would lunge in retaliation, extract what he could of her, and accept that incontestable domination meant a life deprived of love. After all, had he not consigned himself to such a desolate fate long ago? Such was the curse of one who bore the heavy mantle of being the sole Lord of Time.

He scoffed facetiously, the air catching in his throat. Much good it did him, his title, what with the likes of Miss Tyler mucking about, wreaking havoc on his authority. How he ever tolerated her impudence for so long was beyond him. Never before had anyone talked to him in such a brash manner. And _never _had he been denied. He had half a mind to march in there and-

Abruptly he stopped as he thought of a thousand broken faces, all broken by his hand. Then her smile appeared in his mind's eye, her perfect, _beautiful_ smile... He couldn't bear the thought of breaking _that_. Not her. Not Rose. And to do so would profit him nothing; what use had he of a crushed flower? Because he craved far more than physical intimacy. He craved her brightening presence and all that came with it- from the petty quarrels over nothing, to all her ridiculous entertaining nonsense.

Absently, his hand slipped inside his silk-lined pocket to extract the cool metal cuff that had once shackled her wrist. It laid open upon his palm, inert and unremarkable in the scant light. Oh, he had easily swindled her into wearing it, but never had he controlled her. She was always her own person, never looking at him with the least bit of fear. And that, he realized, was precisely why he loved her.

For the briefest moment, he considered barging in there and forcing the blasted thing back on. But it was too late for that now, _far_ too late. He'd already lost that battle. He could never be that man again. Not if it made her frown.


End file.
